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145
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
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Vol. 3
No. 2
PUBLICATION OFFICE:
404 North Wesley Ave., Mt. Morris, 111.
Published by
STELLAR PUBLISHING CORPORATION
H. GERNSBACK, Pres.
I. S. MANHEIMER, Sec’y S. GERNSBACK, Treas.
Table of Contents
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
By Fletcher Pratt 150
In a devastated world, these men of metal labored against the
monstrosities from outside
THE MOON DESTROYERS
By Monroe K. Ruch 212
It was a matter of life or death, should the moon or humanity
be destroyed . .?
THE REVOLT OF THE STAR MEN
By Raymond Gallun 222
From afar gathered the space men. at the Martian’s call . . .
but then came revolt ....
THE METAL MOON
By Everett C. Smith and R. F. Starzl 24C
Based on the Fourth Prize Winning Plot of the Interplanetary
Plot Contest ....
SPACEWRECKED ON VENUS
By Neil R. Jones 260
Who was guilty for the crash of the space liner upon the
Venusian swamps . . . . ?
THE MARTIAN
By Allen Glosser and A. Rowley Hilliard.. 270
Based upon the Third Prize Winning Plot of the Interplanetary
Plot Contest
OUR COVER ILLUSTRATION
from Monroe K. Ruch's “The Moon Destroyers” shows
the three ships from earth accomplishing slowly the gi-
gantic task of disintegrating the moon, so that the earth
might be freed forever of its fearfully destructive effect
upon the earth’s crust.
Winte.
1932
WONDKR STORIES QUARTERLY — Entered as second-class *Dat-
ter September 13, 1929, at the Post Office at Mount Morris. Il-
linois, under tho act of March 3, 1979. Title registered U. S.
Patent Office. Trademarks and copyrlghfa by permission of
Oemsback Pobllcations, Inc., 96 Park Place, New York City,
owner of all trademark rights. Copyright, 1931, by Gernsback
Publications, Inc. Text and lllustrutlona of this magazine are
copyrighted and must not be reproduced without permission of
the owners. _ ,
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY is published on the 15tb day
of September, December, March and June, 4 numbers per year.
Subscription price is $1.75 a year In United States and Its
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146
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
147
♦NEW SCIENCE FICTION ♦
W E PRESENT to the readers of WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY, the most complete selection of
recent important science 6ction. We have selected these bookA because they are the foremost of
their kind today. There is such a great variety, that it will satisfy any taste that any student of science
fiction might have.
We have no catalog and ask you to he kind enough to order direct from this page. Prompt shipments will
be made. Remit by money order or certified check. If you send cash, be sure to register it. No C. O. D.’s.
Books sent prepaid in U. S. A. Add postage for foreign countries.
MUKARA
by Muriel Bruce, 276 pages, stiff cloth covers.
- $2.50
Explorations into the unknown parts of our
globe are revealing the most astonishing re-
mains of ancient civilization. On the basis
of the notes of the Fawcett expedition, Bruce
has constructed a most thrilling story of the
meeting of our civilization with one whose
strangeness, mystery and pow'er over nature
will astound you.
THE EARTH TUBE
by Gawein Edwards. . 800 pages,
covers. Size 5^ by 7^.
Price...—
Stiff cloth
$ 2.00
QUAYLE’S INVENTION
by John Taine, 450 pages. Stiff cloth covers.
Size 5^ X 7 Vi,
Price.—
$2.00
The popular author of **The Rescue*' and "The
Return from Jupiter** achieves another suc-
cess in this powerful novel. A tube through
the earth ... an invincible army possessed
of strange scientific weapons capturing South
America. Mr. Edwards is a rising star on the
horizon of science Action, and in this volume
he exceeds himself.
"You are a menace to civilization,** said the
banker to young Quayle, and left the inven-
tor to die upon the sun-scorched island. But
with superhuman courage Quayle struggles
against pitiless nature to return to civiliza-
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A FIGHTING MAN OF MARS
by Edgar Rice Burroughs^ 320 pages, stiff cloth
covers. Size 5% x 7%. CO ||||
Price
Burroughs, an acknowledged master of ^ sci-
ence Action is 'at his best in this exciting
tale of interplanetary conAict. The story of
Hadron of Hastor will carry you the length
and breadth of the red planet upon a series
of unequalled red-blooded adventures. The
Martian stories of Burroughs were his Arst
love and he returns to them now for a new
triumph.
THE WORLD BELOW
by S. Fowler Wright,
covers. Size 6x7^.
Price
860 pages, stiff cloth
$ 2.00
What could the man of today really do end
accomplish if he were thrown into the world of
6,000,000 A- D. ? Whet would he do when
confronted with his own race incredibly aged 7
A richly imaginative novel, that will shake you
from your seat and leave you breathless with
wonder.
GREEN FIRE
by John Taine. 800 pages.
Size X 7V&.
Price...—
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$2.00
Someone has been tampering with the uni-
verse. This is a powerful novel — intensely
realistic, yet weird and fantastic— of two rival
scientists who struggle to gain control of the
terrible energy within the atom— one for good
and one for evil.
by Erie
Size
Price
OUT OF THE SILENCE
Cox. 810 pages, stiff cloth covers.
$ 2.00
In many ways, this story is unbeatable. From
out of the silence of millions of years comes
a mystery, a force and a menace so colossal
that it staggers the imagination. The story,
revealing the mystery as it does, bit by bit.
becomes more and more fascinating and over-
powering.
THE DAY OF THE BROWN HORDE
by Richard Tooker. 800 pages. Stiff cloth
covers. Size 5x7^. ^7 CA
The author, with an original conception goes
back into the dim past of our earth to re-
create what is unknown to us I With con-
summate skill he builds up the life of our
primordial ancestor, prehistoric man. Mr.
Tooker has achieved a triumph of the human
imagination.
THE PURPLE CLOUD
by M. P. Shiel. 800 pages. Stiff cloth covers.
» 7H. ; $2.50
The thrill and the danger of a trip to un-
known portions of the globe for an enormous
reward ... madness creeping on desolate
men. . . . the return of one man to civiliza-
tion to And he is the only living being on
earth. A most astounding portrayal of a world
catastrophe.
DOCTOR FOGG
by Norman Matson. 165 pages, stiff cloth
covers. Size x 7%, $2.00
Doctor Fogg has created a most astonishing
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est stars ... he has created life . . . But
a world Ailed with greed . . . envy . . .
deadly curiosity burst down upon this harm-
less man to invade hie life and All his days
with madness. . . •
LAST AND FIRST MEN
by W. Olaf Stapledon, 870 pages, etiff cloth
covers. Size 6^ x 7%. $2.50
This amazing book, which has created a vir-
tual sensation abroad traces the history of the
human race over the next hundred million
years I Adventures on earth, adventures on
other planets, great interplanetary wars, the
most astounding inventions just All the pages
of this fascinating story.
THE PURPLE SAPPHIRE
by John Taine. 825 pages. Stiff cloth covers.
Price
From the depths of Thibet came the strange
purple sapphires, jewels of startling value
and great beauty. Into the heart of this
unknown land in search of fabulous wealth
went two men and a girl to the moat unusual
adventures that befell human beings.
IN THE BEGINNING
by Alan Sullivan. 805 pages. Stiff cloth cov-
$ 2.00
Adventures that outdo the famous "Mysterious
Island" of Jules Verne. A million years have
passed over the heads of strange, bizarre
creatures that our explorers And. A conAict
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Pleistocene men and women who speak in
clucks and do not even know Are. . . .
THE GREATEST ADVENTURE
by John Taine. 250 pages. Stiff cloth covers.
Size 6^ X 7Va. M M
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A body of scientists are plunged into the
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RALPH 124C 4H-
A Romance of the Year 2660 by Hugo Gerns-
back. 300 j>ages. Illustrated. Stiff cloth
covers. Size 6^ x 7*4. $2.00
Not since the publication of the stories of
Jules Verne has there appeared such a book.
Mr. Gemsback, Editor of WONDER STORIES,
with a keen insight into the progress of the
world, has constructed a brilliant setting in
the year 2660 for his romance.
Ralph's tremendous battle through interplane-
tary space, with its tragedy and terror, and
the use of the most incredible weapons, that
will some day come true, make a classic of
science Action.
SCIENCE PUBLICATIONS
245 GREENWICH STREET NEW YORK, N. Y.
Thd age of the robot la just dawning and some of
Its infinite possibllltiee, Miss X^ong dips into U Id
I this thrilling story.
THE THOUGHT STEALER (Book 7)
By Frank Bourne
That It may be poaslblo, eomeilme in the future, tat
a brilliant scientist to penetrate the minds <1 others
and examine thelx thoughts, U the theme of tbla
engrossing story.
8— THE TORCH OF RA
By Jack Bradley
All about us lies a tremendous amount of untouched
power; In the sun. In the cosmic rays, etc. This power.
If obtained and coocentrated, might be put to great use.
9— THE VALLEY OF THE GREAT RAY
By Pansey E. Black
We know very little about the real potentialities of
matter. There may be great civilizations that have
found and utilized these poientlalUies far beyond our
own conception.
10— THE ELIXIR
By H. W. Higginson
Brain power Is often dependent on the influencea of
our glands. By proper stimulntlon of some kind. It
may be possible In the future to produce great geniuses.
II— THE THOUGHT TRANSLATOR
By Merab Eberle
Mental telepathy is becoming generally aocepted as
an accomplished fact. Some of lu uses, especially by
mechanical means, may be rory tragic or very amusing.
THE CREATION (Book II)
By M. Milton Mitchell
It whould be possible In the future to create living
beings synthetically, and when this is done, there
wUl bo some amazing results.
12— THE LIFE VAPOR
By Clyde Farrar
Mr. Farrar is evidently an expert In Ms subject.
Be shows how. by proper control, It may be possible
to change the entire course of human life.
THIRTY MILES DOWN (Book 12)
By D. D. Sharp
What lies far beneath the surface of the earth, still
remains quite a mystery to us. Mr* Sharp bas orogted
a rather amazing theory.
MAIL COUPON NOW!
STELLAR PUBLISHING. COHP..
WSO-3-2, 98 Park Place, New York, N. Y.
Qentlemon:
I am enclosing herewith $ for which
please send me prepaid books which 1 have
marked with an X:
NOW
The above titles are fast dimin-
ishing and once the supply is ex-
hausted they -will not be reprinted
again.
YOUR CHOICE
OF ANY 6 BOOKS FOR
m
Vol.3
No. 2
V*"storte.
Quarterig
WINTER
1932
HUGO GERNSBACK, Editor-in-Chief
DAVID LASSER, Managing Editor. FRANK R. PAUL, Art Director
C. A. BRANDT, Literary Editor
ASTRONOMY
Dr. Clyde Fisher, Ph.D., LL.D.
Curator. The American Museum of Natural
History.
BOTANY
Professor Elmer G. Campbell
Transylvania College.
Professor Margaret Clay Ferguson. Ph.D.
Wellesley College.
Professor C. E. Owens
Professor William J. Luyten. Ph.D.
Harvard College Observatory.
Oregon Agricultural College.
, ph n CHEMISTRY
' ^ • Professor Gerald Wendt
'ry. Dean. School of Cliemlatry and rhyaks.
Pennsylvania College.
ASTROPHYSICS MATHEMATICS PHYSICS
Donald H. Menzel. Ph.D. , n *. Professor C. Irwin Palmer Prefeesor A. L. Fitch
T.leK Observatory. Unlvcrtily of California. Doan of Students, University of Maine.
ELECTRICITY Armour Institute of Technology. PSYCHOLOGY
**'iFomerly^'ol^'D»rSnouth Coll.Bo. IhiV.ptsiM; Dr. Marjorie E. Babcock
^ entomology Alfred Unirerslty, Acting Director, Peychologlcal Clinic.
William M. Wheeler . „ ■ University of Hawaii.
Dean, Bussey Institution fra- Besearch In MEDICINE ZOOLOGY
Aspllod RaVi'o" Dr David H. Keller Dr. Joseph G. Yoehloka
Dr. Lee deFwest,* Ph.D., D.Sc. Pennhurst State School. ^ Tale University.
These nationally known educators pass upon the scientific principles of all stories
.Prophetic Fiction is the Mother of Scientific F act..
WanteF; more rlctx
I N this issue of the Quarterly, you -will find of the story. The point we wish to stress now,
the third and fourth stories resulting from particularly, is that the plot must be original,
the Interplanetary Plot Contest announced and must not have been used before. In the last
several issues ago. contest, a great many plots did not win prizes
These as well as the stories to appear in sue- because they contained too many ideas along the
ceeding ’issues, which were prize winners in the follovring lines:
Interplanetary Plot Contest, (1) They dealt only with interplanetary wars;
coLT has’brougM^n^riife^ ^hich oth- j JeUla^eTar^bllsTi-^ unplausible
erwise might never have seen the light of day. interplanetary beasts.
We firmly believe (3) They showed
that this contest has our hero going to an-
L +V.O vnonno tn stir othcr planet simply to
uD SometWng entirely WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY will, for rescue a fair princess
new in science fiction the next year, pay $10.00 for each Interplane- from an evil high
literature, and to ad- tary plot, suggested by our readers that we 'rrv. u a
vance the art of science accept. This contest is meant for our readers J. ’ exolorers °iroinn
fiction. So impressed , i .i. i. j r our explorers going
have we been with the only; and pr^essional authors are barred from clear out of the solar
results of the contest, it. $10.00 will be paid to the winner upon pub- system to another world
that we have deter- lication of the story. finding people just
mined to make it a per- $io.OO prize for the best plot re- hke ourselves.
manent Dart of this . . . .v ut- *• **!.•- • Therefore, if you
maeiSne^ “P Publication of this issue is ^ope to have your plot
There is no good awarded to Edward Morris, 3914 W. Monroe accepted, steer clear
reason why you, as a Street, Chicago, III; of those hackneyed and
reader, should not have uLrealistic ideas,
as good ideas for inter-
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY will, for
the next year, pay $10.00 for each Interplane-
tary plot, suggested by our readers that we
accept. This contest is meant for our readers
only ; and professional authors are barred from
it. $10.00 will be paid to the winner upon pub-
lication of the story.
The first $10.00 prize for the best plot re-
ceived up to the publication of this issue is
awarded to Edward Morris, 3914 W. Monroe
Street, Chicago, III;
planetary plots as any
author. As a matter of fact, the average man
who is not an author looks upon science fiction
through a different sort of mental glasses. He has
more “perspective.” For that reason, there is
usually an originality and freshness, in readers
ideas, that often are unmatched by the best of
our authors. , . , , , , ^ j
It has, therefore, been decided to make a stand-
ing offer of $10.00 for any plot acceptable to the
editorial board, prize to be paid upon publication
We will pay the uni-
■ form prize of $10.00
for each accepted plot. This offer will hold until
September 16, 1932, and may be extended by the
publishers if satisfactory results have been re-
ceived.
For other details regarding the plots, we refer
you to the Spring 1931 issue of WONDER STOR-
IES QUARTERLY (Volume 2, No. 3). Should
you not have a copy of this magazine, we shall be
glad to send you printed matter relating to the
details of the contest.
The Next Issue of WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
Will Be on Sale ^ March 15, 1932
149
The Onslaught from Rigel
By FLETCHER PRATT
(Illustration by Paul)
A jagg^ed beam of flame, intenser than the hottest furnace leaped through
the air, struck the green globe and reached the earth in a thousand tiny rivulets
of light.
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
By the author of ‘*The Reign of the Ray,” "The War of the Giants,” etc.
M urray lee woke abruptly, with the memory
of the sound that had roused him drumming
at the back of his head, though his conscious
mind had been beyond its ambit. His first sensation
was an overpowering stiffness in every muscle — a feel-
ing as though he had been pound-
ed all over, though his memory
supplied no clue to the reason for
such a sensation.
Painfully, he turned over in
bed and felt the left elbow where
the ache seemed to center. He re-
ceived the most tremendous shock
of his life. The motion was at-
tended by a creaking clang and
the elbow felt exceedingly like a
complex wheel.
He sat up to make sure he was
awake, tossing the offending arm
free of the covers. The motion
produced another clang and the
arm revealed itself to his aston-
ished gaze as a system of metal
bands, bound at the elbow by the
mechanism he had felt before, and
crowned, where the fingers should
be, by steely talons
terminating in rub-
ber-like finger-tips.
Yet there seemed to
be no lack of feeling
in the member. For
a few seconds he
stared, open-mouthed,
then lifted the other
arm. It was the right-
hand counterpart of
the device he had
been gazing at. He
essayed to move one,
then the other — the
shining fingers obeyed
his thought as though
they were flesh and
blood.
A sense of expect-
ant fear gripped him
as he lifted one of the
hands to unbutton his
pajamas. He was not
deceived in the half-
formed expectation ;
where the ribs clothed
in a respectable
amount of muscle
should have been, a
row of glistening
metal plates appeared.
Thoughts of body-
snatching and bi-
zarre surgery flitted
through his mind to
be instantly dis-
missed. Dreaming?
Drunk? A dreadful
idea that he might be insane struck him and he leaped
from the bed to confront a mirror. His feet struck the
floor with a portentious bang and each step produced a
squeak and clank — and he faced the mirror, the familiar
mirror before which he had shaved for years. With
utter stupefaction he saw an iron countenance, above
which a stiff brush of wire hair projected ludicrously.
One does not go mad at such moments. The shock
takes time to sink in. “At all events I may as well get
dressed,” he remarked to himself practically. “I don’t
suppose water will do this hard-
ware any good, so I'll omit the
bath ; but if I’m crazy I might as
well go out and have a good time
about it.”
Dressing was a process pro-
longed by an examination of him-
self and the discovery that he was
a most efficient metal machine. He
rather admired the smoothness of
the hip joints and the way the
sliding parts of his arms fitted to-
gether, and was agreeably sur-
prised to find that in the metal-
lizing process his toes had become
prehensile. Just for the fun of
it, he pulled one shoe on with the
opposite foot.
It was not until he was nearly
dressed that he realized that the
wonted noise of New York, which
reached one as a
throaty undertone at
the forty-eighth story
of a modem apart-
ment building, was
somehow absent.
Surely, at this hour —
he glanced at the
clock. It had stopped
at a quarter to two.
No help there. His
watch was inexplic-
ably missing. Prob-
ably Ben had bor-
rowed it ... Ah!
That was the idea.
Ben Ruby, with whom
he occupied the du-
plex apartment in the
penthouse of the Ar-
buckle Building, was
a scientist of sorts
(mainly engaged in
the analysis of
“booze” samples for
millionaires distrust-
ful of their bootleg-
gers, these days) — he
would be able to ex-
plain everything.
- He stepped across
to the door and
dropped the brass
knocker, a little timo-
rous at the sound of
his own thudding
steps. The door was
snatched open with
unexpected sudden-
ness by a caricature of Ben in metal — as complete a
machine as himself, but without most of the clothes.
"Come in! Come in!” his friend bellowed in a voice
with an oddly phonographic quality to it. “You look
great. Iron Man MacGinnity! What did you put on
M r, PRATT is well known for his “Reign
of the Ray,” and “The War of the
Giants” where in both stories he showed his
excellent knowledge of warfare, and what a
future war might be like.
In this story he combines that knowledge
with a vivid and fertile scientific imagination
to construct an interplanetary story that
marks a new triumph for WONDER Stories
Quarterly.
We know that many scientists believe that
life may originally have come to earth in the
form of spores, from other solar systems and
other universes. We therefore might really
have had our home dim ages ago, on worlds
distantly removed from our earth.
The ability to travel the interstellar spaces,
however, might also be possessed by other
creatures — creatures driven by fear, neces-
sity and by the will to conquer. And if they
come, in mighty waves, with scientific pow-
ers far beyond uis,'" to dominate the earth, a
terrible time will face the puny human race.
And in this story they do come, and pro-
voke some of the strangest and most exciting
adventures that have yet been recorded.
161
162 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
clothes for? As useful as pants on a rock-drill. I have
breakfast.”
“What is it? Am I crazy, are you, or are we both?”
“Of course not. Greatest thing that ever happened.
The big comet. They said she was radioactive, but
most of ’em wouldn’t believe it. Now look what it did.”
(Murray Lee remembered vaguely some newspaper
palaver about a giant comet that was going to strike
the earth — argument and counter-argument as to
whether it would have a serious effect.) “Everybody’s
turned to metal; nize machinery, ate oop all de axle-
grease. You need oil. Stick around.”
He disappeared into the bowels of the apartment,
the sound of his footsteps ringing enormous in the vast
silence. In an instant he was back with a radio battery
in one hand and an oil-can in the other.
“Sorry, no grease on tap,” he remarked briskly.
“Typewriter oil.” He went to work busily, squirting
drops of oil into Lee’s new metallic joints. “Connect
this thing up yourself. It fills you with what it takes.”
He indicated the battery with an extended toe. “One
arm and the opposite leg. There seems to be a resis-
tance chamber in us somewhere that collects the juice.”
Without in the least understanding what it was all
about, Murray Lee made shift to follow his instruction.
It was the most singular meal he had ever partaken of,
but he found it curiously invigorating.
“How about another? No? Have you seen anybody
else? It finished most of them.”
“Will you sit down and tell me consecutively what it’s
all about before I bash you ?” asked Murray, petulantly.
“Being turned into a machine is not the easiest thing in
the world on one’s temper ; it upsets the disposition.”
“Some sort of a special extra radioactive gas storm
connected with the comet, I think, though I can’t be
sure. It’s made machines of all of us, now and forever
more. We’ll live on electric current after this and won’t
have to bother about little things like doctors if we can
find a good mechanic. But it killed a lot of people.
Come along. I’ll show you.”
H IS hand rang on Murray’s arm as he grasped it to
lead the way. The hall was portentously dark, and
Ben pulled him straight across it to the door marked
“Fir6 Exit.”
“Elevator?” queried Murray.
“No go. No power.”
“Oh, Lord, forty-eight stories to walk.”
“You’ll get used to it.” They were clanking to the
landing of the floor below and Ben, without the slight-
est compunction, pushed boldly into the door of the
apartment there. The lock showed signs of being
forced. “Oh, I broke it in,” Ben answered Murray’s
unspoken query. "Thought I might be able to help,
but it was no use. That fat woman lives here — you
know, the one that used to sniff at us in the elevator
when we went on a bender.”
Any qualms Murray felt about looking on the naked
face of death were perfunctorily laid to rest as the sci-
entist led him into the room occupied by the late lady
of the elevator. She lay solidly in her bed amidst the
meretricious gorgeousness she had affected in life, the
weight of her body sagging the bed grotesquely toward
its center. Instead of the clean-running mechanical de-
vices which marked the appearance of the two friends,
she was nothing but lumps and bumps, a bulging, ugly
cast-iron statue, distending the cheap “silk” nightdress.
“See?” said Ben, calmly, “The transmutation wasn’t
complete. Prob’ly didn’t get it as strong as we did.
Look, the window’s closed. This will be a warning to
people who are afraid to sleep in a draft. Come along.”
Murray lingered. “Isn’t there anything ... we can
do?” He felt uncomfortably responsible.
“Not a thing,” said Ben, cheerfully. “All she’s good
for is to stand in the park and look at. Come along.
We’ve got a lot of stairs to go down . . . we’re too noisy;
need a good bath in non-rusting oil.”
They reached the street level after an aeon of stairs,
Ben leading the way to the corner drug store. All about
them was a complete silence; fleecy white clouds sailed
across the little ribbon of blue visible at the top of the
canyon of the New York city street.
“Lucky it’s a nice day,” said Ben, boldly stepping
into the drug store, the door of which stood open. “We’ll
have to figure out this rainy weather thing. It’s going
to present a problem,”
Within, the drug store presented the same phenomena
of arrested development as the apartment of the fat
lady at the forty-seventh story. A cast-iron statue of
a soda-clerk leaned on the fountain in an attitude of
studied negligence, its lips parted as though addressing
some words to the equally metallic figure of a girl
which faced him across the counter. On her steely
features was a film of power, and the caked and curling
remains of her lip stick showed she had been there for
some time.
“By the way,” Murray asked, “have you any idea
what day it is, and how long we were — under the in-
fluence? It couldn’t have happened overnight.”
“Why not?” came Ben’s voice from the rear of the
store, "Say, old dear, rummage around some of those
drawers for rubber gloves, will you? I’d hate to run
into high voltage with this outfit.”
“Ah, here they are,” came from Ben finally. “Well,
let’s go.”
“What’s the next step?” They were outside.
“Rubber shoes, I fancy,” said Ben, as his feet skidded
on the pavement. “Let’s take a taxi there and go find
a shoe store.”
Together they managed to slide the cast-iron taxi
driver from his seat (Murray was surprised at how
easily he was able to lift a weight he could not have
budged in his flesh and blood days), deposited him on
the curb and climbed in. The key was fortunately in
the switch.
As they swung around the corner into Madison Ave-
nue, Lee gave an exclamation. A scene of ruin and
desolation met their eyes. Two or three street cars
had telescoped and an auto or so had piled into the
wreckage. All about were the iron forma of the pas-
sengers in these conveyances, frozen in the various atti-
tudes they had assumed at the moment of the change,
and from one or two of them thin streamers of metai
showed where blood had flowed forth before it had
been irretrievably crystallized to metaL
Murray Lee suddenly realized that an enormous
amount of machinery had gone to smash everywhere
when the guiding hands had been removed and the
guiding brains frozen to useless metal. He gave a little
shudder.
T hey swung round before a shoe store with grating
brakes. The door was locked, but Ben, lifting his
foot, calmly kicked a hole in the show window. Murray
extended a restraining hand, but -his friend shook it
off.
“No use asking permission. If the proprietor of
this place is still alive anywhere, it will be easy enough
to settle up for the damage; if he isn’t, we have as
good a right to it as anybody.”
The new toes, which appeared to be longer than those
he remembered, made fitting a difficulty, and Murray
split two or three shoes before he got a pair on.
“What next?” he asked. “I feel like a drink.”
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
163
“No use,” said Ben. “You’re on the wagon for good.
Alcohol would play merry hell with your metalwork.
The best thing is to find out how many people we are.
For all we know, we’re the only ones in the world. This
thing seems to have knocked out everybody along the
street level. Let’s try some of the taller apartment
buildings and see if we can find more penthouse dwell-
ers.”
“Or maybe the others came to before us and went
away,” offered Murray.
“True,” Ben replied. “Anyhow, look-see.” He led
the way to the taxi.
“Wait,” said Murray. “What’s that?”
Above the sound of the starting engine came the
echo of heavy footsteps, muffled by shoes.
“Hey! Coo-ee! This way!” shouted Ben. The foot-
steps tentatively approached the corner. Murray ran
forward, then stopped in amazement. The newcomer
was a girl — or would have been a girl had she not been
all metal and machinery like themselves. To his eyes,
still working on flesh-and-blood standards, she was any-
thing but good-looking. She was fully and formally
dressed, save that she wore no hat — the high pile of
tangled wire that crowned her head made this obviously
impossible.
“Oh, what has happened?” she cried at them. “What
can I do? I took a drink of water and it hurt.”
“Everything’s all right. Just a little metal trans-
formation,” said Ben. "Stick around. I’ll get you some
oil. You squeak.” He was off down the street in a
clatter, leaving Murray with the newcomer.
“Permit me to introduce myself,” he offered. “I am
— or was — Murray Lee. My friend, who has gone to
get you some oil, is Benjamin Franklin Euby. He
thinks the big comet which hit the earth contained
radioactive gas that made us all into metal. Did you
live in a penthouse?”
She eyed him darkly. “Somebody told you,” she said,
“I’m Gloria Rutherford, and we have the top floor of
the Sherry-Netherland, but all the rest were away when
this happened . . . Oh, pardon me, it hurts me to talk.”
There came a crash from down the street, indicating
that Ben was forcing another store, and in a minute
he was back with a handful of bottles. With a flourish
he offered one to the girl. “Only castor, but it’s the
best the market affords,” he said. “What we need is
a good garage, but there aren’t many around here . . .
Go ahead, drink her down, it’s all right,” he assured
the girl, who was contemplating the bottle in her hand
with an expression of distaste.
Following his own recommendation, he tipped up one
of the bottles and drank a deep draught, then calmly
proceeded to douse himself from head to foot with the
remainder.
She made a little grimace, then tried it. “Thank you,”
she said, setting the bottle down. “I didn’t think it
was possible anybody could like the stuff except in a
magazine ad. Now tell me, where are all the other
people and what do we do?”
“Do?” queried Ben. “Find ’em. How? Ask Mr.
Foster. Anybody else in your neck of the woods?”
She shook her head. Murray noticed that the joints
of her neck rattled. “Paulson — that’s my maid — was
the only other person in our apartment, and she seems
to be even more solid-iron in the head than usual — like
this lot.” She swung her hand round in an expressive
gesture toward the image of a policeman which was
directing two similar images to pause at the curb.
“How about a bonfire?” suggested Murray. “That’s
the way the Indians or South Africans or somebody,
attract attention.”
“What could we burn?” asked Ben. "... A building,
of course. Why not? Property doesn’t mean any-
thing any more with all the property owners dead.”
“I know,” said Gloria Rutherford, falling into the
spirit of his suggestion. “The old Metropolitan Opera.
That eyesore has worried me for the last five years.”
The suggestion was endorsed with enthusiasm. They
climbed into the taxi and twenty minutes later were
hilariously kindling a blaze in the back-stage section
of the old building, running out of it with childish de-
light to watch the pillar of smoke grow and spread as
the flames caught the timbers, long dry with age.
Murray sighed as they sat on the curb across the
street. “This is the only time I’ve ever been as close
as I wanted to be to a big fire,” he complained, “and
now there isn’t even a policeman around for me to make
faces at. But such is life!”
“What if it sets fire to the whole city?” inquired
Gloria practically.
Ben shrugged. “What if?” he replied. “Doesn’t
mean anything. Bet there aren’t more than a couple
of dozen people alive. But I don’t think it will. Modern
construction in most of these places is too fireproof.”
“Look, there’s a bird,” said Gloria, indicating a solid
metal sparrow, fixed, like the human inhabitants of the
city, in his last position in life at the edge of the curb.
“By the way, what do we eat? Do we live on castor
oil all the time?”
CHAPTER II
A Metal Community
T he conversation turned into a discussion of the
possibilities' of their new form. Whether they
would need sleep was a moot point, and they were
discussing the advisability of training mechanics as
doctors when the first footsteps announced themselves.
They belonged to a man whose face, ornamented by
a neat Van Dyke in wire, gave him the appearance of
a physician of the more fleshly life, but who turned
out to be a lawyer, named Roberts. He was delighted
with the extraordinary youthfulness and vitality he
felt in the new incarnation. Fully dressed in morning
clothes, he bore the information that he was one of a
group of four who had achieved the metal transforma-
tion atop the French building. He promptly plunged
into a discussion of technicalities with Ben that left
the other two out of it, and they moved off to the
Seventh Avenue side of the building to see whether
any more people were visible.
“Do you miss the people much?” asked Murray, by
way of making conversation.
“Not a bit,” she confessed. “My chief emotion is
delight over not having to go to the de la Peers’ tea
tomorrow afternoon. Though I suppose we will miss
them as time goes on.”
“I don’t know about that,” Murray replied. “Life was
getting pretty complicated and artificial — at least for
me. There were so many things one had to do before
one began living — ^you know, picking the proper friends
and all that.”
The girl nodded understandingly. “I know what you
mean. My mother would throw a fit if she knew I were
here talking to you right now. If I met you at a dance
in Westchester it would be perfectly all right for me to
stay out with you half the night and drink gin together,
but meeting you in daylight on the street — oh, boy!”
“Well,” Murray sighed, “that tripe is all through with
now. What do you say we get back and see how the
rest are getting along?”
They found them still in the midst of their argument.
— evidently some substance so volatile that the mere
154 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
contact with animal tissue causes a reaction that leaves
nothing of either the element or the tissue,” Ben was
saying. “You note that these metal bands reproduce
the muscles almost perfectly.”
"Yes,” the lawyer replied, "but they are too flexible
to be any metal I know. I’m willing to grant your wider
knowledge of chemistry, but it doesn’t seem reasonable.
All I can think of is that some outside agency has inter-
fered. These joints, for instance — ,” he touched Ben’s
elbow, “ — and what about the little rubber pads on your
fingers and toes and the end of your nose?"
There was a universal motion on the part of the
others to feel of their noses. It was as the lawyer had
said — they were, like the fingers and toes, certainly very
much like rubber — and movable !
“Don’t know," said Ben. “Who did it, though?
That’s what boggles your scheme. Everybody’s changed
to metal and nobody left to make the changes you men-
tion. However, let’s go get the rest of your folks. I
wonder if we ought to have weapons. You two wait
here.”
He clanked off with the lawyer to the taxi. A moment
later, the tooting of the horn announced their return.
The party consisted, beside Roberts himself, of his
daughter, Ola Mae, a girl of sixteen, petulant over the
fact that her high-heeled shoes were already breaking
down under her weight; a Japanese servant named
Yoshio; and Mrs. Roberts, one of those tall and billowy
women of the earlier life who, to the irritation of the
men, turned out to be the strongest of any of them.
Fat, apparently, had no metallic equivalent, and her
ample proportions now consisted of bands of metal that
made her extraordinarily powerful.
With these additions the little group adjourned to
Times Square to watch the billowing clouds of smoke
rising above the ruins of the opera house.
"What next?” asked Gloria, seating herself on the
curbstone.
“Look for more people,” said Murray. “Surely we
can’t be the only frogs in the puddle.”
"Why not?” put in Ben, argumentatively, with a
swing of his arm toward the wreckage-strewn square.
“You forget that this catastrophe has probably wiped
out all the animal life of the world, and we seven owe
our survival to some fortunate chance.”
The Japanese touched him on the arm. “Perhaps sir
can inform inquirer, in such case, what is curious avian
object?” he said, pointing upward.
They heard the beat of wings as he spoke and looked
up together to see, soaring fifty feet past their heads a
strange parody of a bird, with four distinct wings, a
long feathered tail, and bright intelligent eyes set in a
dome-like head.
There was a moment of excited babbling.
“What is it?”
“Never saw anything like it before.”
“Did the comet do that to chickens?” And then, as
the strange creature disappeared among the forest of
spires to the east, the voice of the lawyer, used to such
tumults, asserted its mastery over the rest.
“I think,” he said, “that whatever that bird is, the
first thing to be done is find a headquarters of some
kind and establish a mode of life.”
“How about finding more people?” asked Gloria. “The
more the merrier — and there may be some who don’t
know how nice castor oil is.” She smiled a metallic
smile.
"The fire — ” began Ben.
“It would keep some people away.”
EY debated the point for several minutes, finally
JL deciding that since those present had all come
from the top floors or penthouses of tall buildings, the
search should be confined to such localities. Each was
to take a car — there were any number for the taking
around Times Square — and cover a certain section of
the city, rallying at sundown to the Times building,
where Ola Mae and Murray, who could not drive, were
to be left.
Roberts was the first one back, swinging a big Peu-
geot around with the skill of a racing driver. He had
found no one, but had a curious tale. In the upper
floors of the New Waldorf three of the big windows
were smashed in, and in one comer of the room, amid
a maze of chairs fantastically torn as though by a play-
ful giant, a pile of soft cloths. In the midst of this
pile, four big eggs reposed. He had picked up one of
the eggs, and after weighing the advisability of bring-
ing it with him, deeided he had more important things
to do. The owners of the nest did nob appear.
As he emerged from the building, however, the quick
motion of a shadow across the street caused him to look
up in time to catch a glimpse of one of the four-winged
birds they had seen before, and just as he was driving
the car away, his ears were assailed by a torrent of
screeches and “skrawks” from the homecomer. He did
not look up until the shadow fell across him again
when he perceived the bird was following close behind
him, flying low, and apparently debating the advisabil-
ity of attacking him.
Roberts waved his arms and shouted; it had not the
slightest effect on the bird, which, now that it was
closer, he perceived to move its hind wings only, holding
its fore-wings out like those of an airplane. He wished
he had a weapon of some kind; lacking one, he drew
the car up to the curb and ran into a building. The
bird alighted outside and began to peck the door in,
but by the time it got through Roberts had climbed a
maze of stairs, and though he could hear it screaming
throatily behind him, it did not find him and eventually
gave up the search.
The end of this remarkable tale was delivered to an
enlarged audience. Gloria had arrived, bringing a
chubby little man who announced himself as F. W. Stev-
ens.
“The boy plunger?” queried Murray absent-mindedly,
and realized from Gloria’s gasp that he had said the
wrong thing.
“Well, I operate in Wall Street,” Stevens replied
rather stiffly.
Ben came with three recruits. At the sight of the
first, Murray gasped. Even in the metal caricature, he
had no difficulty in recognizing the high, bald forehead,
the thin jaws and the tooth-brush moustache of Walter
Beeville, the greatest living naturalist. Before dark
the others were back — ^Yoshio with one new acquisition
and Mrs. Roberts, whose energy paralleled her strength,
with no less than four, among them an elaborately
gowned woman who proved to be Marta Lami, the Hun-
garian dancer who had been the sensation of New York
at the time of the catastrophe.
They gathered in the Times Square drug store in a
strange babble of phonographic voices and clang of
metal parts against the stone floor and soda fountains.
It was Roberts who secured a position behind one of
these erstwhile dispensers of liquid soothing-syrup and
rapped for order.
“I think the first thing to be done,” he said, when the
voices had grown quiet in answer to his appeal, “is to
organize the group of people here and search for more.
If it had not been for the kindness of Mr. Ruby here,
my family and I would not have known about the
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
155
neoeaait]T of using oil on this new mechanical makeup
nor of the value of electrical current as food. There
may be others in the city in the same state. What is
the — ah — sense of the gathering on this topic?”
Stevens was the first to speak. “It's more important
to organize and elect a president,” he said briefly.
“A very good idea,” commented Roberts,
“Well, then,” said Stevens, ponderously, “I move we
proceed to elect officers and form as a corporation.”
“Second the motion,” said Murray almost automatic-
ally.
“Pardon me,” It was the voice of Beeville the natu-
ralist. “I don’t think we ought to adopt any formal
organization yet It hardly seems necessary. We are
practically in the golden age, with all the resources of
an immense city at the disposal of — fourteen people.
And we know very little about ourselves. All the medi-
cal and biological science of the world must be discarded
and built up again. At this very moment we may be
suffering from the lack of something that is absolutely
necessary to our existence — though I admit I cannot
imagine what it could be. I think the first thing to do
is to investigate our possibilities and establish the sci-
ence of mechanical medicine. As to the rest of our de-
tails of existence, they don’t matter much at present.”
A murmur of approval went round the room and Stev-
ens looked somewhat put out.
“We could hardly adopt anarchy as a form of gov-
ernment,” he offered.
“Oh, yes we could,” said Marta Lami, "Hurray for
anarchy. The Red Flag forever. Free love, free beer,
no work!”
“Yes,” said Gloria, “what’s the use of all this metal-
lizing, anyway? We got rid of a lot of old applesauce
about restrictions and here you want to tie us up again.
More and better anarchy!”
“QJAY,” came a deep and raucous voice from one of
^ the newcomers. “Why don’t we have just a straw
boss for a while till we see how things work out? If
anyone gets fresh the straw boss can jump him, or kick
him out, but those that stick with the gang have to lis-
ten to him. How’s that?”
“Fine,” said Ben, heartily. “You mean have a kind
of Mussolini for a while?”
“That’s the idea. You ought to be it.”
There was a clanging round of metallic applause as
three of four people clapped their hands.
“There is a motion — ” began Roberts.
“Oh, tie a can to it,” said Gloria, irreverently, “I nom-
inate Ben Ruby as dictator of the colony of New York
for — ^three months. Everybody that’s for it, stick up
your hands.”
Eleven hands went up. Gloria looked around at those
who remained recalcitrant and concentrated her gaze
on Stevens. “Won’t you join us, Mr. Stevens?” she
asked sweetly.
“I don’t think this is the way to do things,” said the
Wall Street man with a touch of asperity. “It’s alto-
gether irregular and no permanent good can result from
it. However, I will act with the rest.”
“And you, Yoshio?”
“I am uncertain that permission is granted to this
miserable worm to vote.”
“Certainly. We’re all starting from scratch. Who
else is there? What about you, Mr. Lee?”
“Oh, I know him too well.”
The rest of the opposition dissolved in laughter and
Ben made his way to the place by the counter vacated
by Roberts.
“The first thing we can do is have some light,” he
ordered. “Does anyone know where candles can be had
around here? I suppose there ought to be some in the
drug store across the street, but I don’t know where
and there’s no light to look by.”
“How about flashlights? There’s an electrical and
radio store up the block.”
“Fine, Murray you go look. Now Miss Roberts, will
you be our secretary? I think the first thing to do is
to get down the name and occupation of everyone here.
That will give us a start toward finding out what we
can do. Ready? Now you, Miss Rutherford, first.”
“My name is Gloria Rutherford and I can’t do any-
thing but play tennis, drink gin and drive a car,”
The rest of the replies followed: “F. W. Stevens,
Wall Street,” “Theodore Roberts, lawyer,” “Archibald
Tholfsen, chess-player,” “H. M. Dangerfield, editor,”
“Francis X. O’Hara, trucking business,” (this was the
loud-voiced man who had cut the Gordian knot of the
argument about organization). "Are you a mechanic,
too?” asked Ben.
“Well, not a first class one, but I know a little about
machinery.”
"Good, you’re appointed our doctor.”
“Paul Farrelly, publisher,” “Albert F. Massey, art-
ist” — ^the voices droned on in the uncertain illumination
of the flashlights.
“Very well, then,” said Ben at the conclusion of the
list, “The first thing I’ll do is appoint Walter Beeville
director of research. Fact number one for him is that
we aren’t going to need much of any sleep, I don’t feel
the need of it at all, and I don’t seem to see any signs
among you. O’Hara will help him on the mechanical
side. . . . T suggest that as Mr. Beeville will need to
observe all of us we make the Rockefeller Institute our
headquarters. He will have the apparatus there to car-
ry on his work. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER III
Rebellion
T hey whirled away to the east side of the city and
up Second Avenue like a triumphal cortege, bliss-
fully disregarding the dead traffic lights, though
now and then they had to dodge the ruins of some truck
or taxi that had come out second best from an argument
with an elevated pillar where the driver’s hand had been
frozen at the wheel. At Forty-ninth Street Ben’s car,
in the lead, swung in to the curb and pulled up.
“What is it?” . . . “Is this the place?” . . . “Anything
wrong?”
An illuminating voice floated up. “Electric store, get
all the flashlights and batteries you can. We’re going
to need them.”
A few moments later they were at the great institu-
tion, strangely dark and silent now after all its years of
ministering to the sick, with a line of rust showing
redly on the tall iron fence that surrounded the grounds.
They trooped into the reception room, flickering their
lights here apd there like fireflies. Ben mounted a
chair.
“Just a minute, folks,” he began. “I want to say
something. . . . What we have to do here is build civili-
zation up all over again. Undoubtedly there are more
people alive — if not in New York, then in other places.
We have two jobs — ^to get in touch with them and to
find out what we can do. Mr, Beeville is going to find
out about the second one for us, but we can do a lot
without waiting for him.
"In the first place, there’s that funny-looking bird
that we all saw and that chased Roberts. There may
be others like it and a lot of new queer forms of animal
life around that would be dangerous to us. Therefore,
166
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
I think it’s in line to get some weapons. Miss Lami,
you and Mr. Tholfsen are delegated to dig up a hard-
ware store and find guns and cartridges. ... Now for
the rest, I’m open to suggestions.”
Everybody spoke at once. "Wait a minute,” said Ben,
“Let’s take things in order. What was your idea, Mr.
Stevens ?”
"Organize regular search parties.”
“And a good idea, too. We don’t even need to wait
for daylight. Everybody who can drive, get a car and
trot along.”
“X-ray machines are going to be awfully useful in my
work,” offered Beeville. “I wonder if there isn’t some
way of getting enough current to run one.”
“As far as I remember, this building supplies its own
current. Murray, you and Massey trot down and get a
fire up under one of the boilers. Anything else?”
“Yes,” came from Dangerfield, the editor. “It seems
to me that the first thing anyone else in the world would
try to do if he found himself made into a tin doll like
this is get hold of a radio. How about opening up a
broadcasting station?”
“I don’t know whether you can get enough power, but
you can try. Go to it. Do you know anything about
radio ?”
“A little.”
“All right. Pick whoever you want for an assistant
and try it out. Any more ideas?”
“What day is it?” asked Ola Mae Roberts.
Nobody had thought of it, and it suddenly dawned on
the assemblage that the last thing they remembered
was when the snow on the roof-tops bespoke a chilly
February, while now all the trees were in leaf and the
air was redolent of spring.
“Why — I don’t know,” said Ben. “Anybody here got
any ideas on how to find out?”
“It would take an experienced astronomer and some
calculation to determine with accuracy,” said Beeville,
“We’d better set an arbitrary date.”
“0, K Then it’s May 1, 1947. That's two years
ahead of time, but it will take that long to find out
what it really is.”
The assumption that sleep would be unnecessary
proved correct. All night long, cars roared up to the
door and away again on their quests. The number of
people found was small — the cream had apparently been
gathered that morning. O’Hara brought in a metallic
scrubwoman from one of the downtown buildings, the
tines that represented her teeth showing stains of rust
where she had incautiously drunk water ; Stevens turned
up with a slow-voiced young man who proved to be
Georgios Pappagourdas, the attach^ of the Greek con-
sulate whose name had been in the papers in connection
with a sensational divorce case ; and Mrs. Roberts came
in with two men, one of them J. Sterling Vanderschoof,
president of the steamship lines which bore his name.
At dawn Dangerfield came in. He had set up a pow-
erful receiving set by means of storage batteries but
could find no messages on the air, and could find no
source of power sufficient for him to broadcast.
The morning, therefore, saw another and somewhat
less optimistic conference. As it was breaking up Ben
said, “You Tholfsen, take Stevens, Vanderschoof and
Lee and get a truck, will you? You’ll find one about
half a block down the street. Go up to one of the coal
pits and get some fuel for our boilers here. We haven’t
too large a supply.”
There was a clanking of feet as they left and Ben
turned into the laboratory where Beeville was working,
with the scrubwoman as a subject.
“Something interesting here,” said the naturalist.
looking up as he entered. “The outer surface of this
metal appears to be rust-proof, but when you get water
on the inside, things seem to go. It acts like a special-
ly anflealed compound of some kind. And look — ” He
seized one of the arms of his subject, who gazed at him
with mildly unresisting eyes, and yanked at the outer
layer of metal bands that composed it. The band
stretched like one of rubber, and she gave a slight squeal
as it snapped back into position. “I don’t know of any
metal that has that flexibility. Do you ? Why — ”
T he door swung open and they turned to see Murray
and Tholfsen.
“Beg pardon for interrupting the sacred panjan-
drum,” said the former, “but Stevens and Vanderschoof
are indulging in a sulk. They don’t want to play with
us.”
“Oh, hell,” remarked Ben cheerfully and started for
the door, the other two following him.
He found the recalcitrants soon enough. The Wall
Street man was seated across a doctor’s desk from Van-
derschoof and looked up calmly from an interrupted
conversation as Ben entered.
“Thought I asked you two to go with the boys for
some coal,” said Ben, waving at them. “My mistake.
I meant to.”
“You did. I’m not going.”
Ben’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
“This is the United States of America, young man,
I don’t recognize that I am under your orders or anyone
else’s. If you think you are going to get us to accept
any such Mussolini dictatorship, you’ve got another
guess coming. As I was saying — ” he turned back to
Vanderschoof with elaborate unconcern, and Murray
took a step toward him, bristling angrily.
“Leave me alone, boys, I can handle this,” said Ben,
waving the other two back. "Mr. Stevens.” The broker
looked up with insolent politeness. “This is not the
United States, but the colony of New York, Conditions
have changed and the sooner you recognize that the bet-
ter for all of us. We are trying to rebuild civilization
from the ruins; if you don’t share in the work, you
shall not share in the benefits,”
"And what are you going to do about it?”
“Put you out,”
There was a quick flash, and Ben was staring into the
business end of a Luger automatic, gripped tightly in
the broker’s hand. “Oh, no you won’t. You forget that
you made this anarchy yourself when you refused to
have a president. Now get out of here, quick, and let
me talk with my friend.”
- For a moment the air was heavy with tension. Then
Vanderschoof smiled — a superior smile, Stevens’ eyes
blinked, and in that blink Ben charged, and as he moved,
Murray and Tholfsen followed. There was a report like
a clap of thunder in the narrow room, a tremendous
ringing clang as the bullet struck the metal plate of
Ben’s shoulder and caromed to the ceiling, whirling
him around against the desk and to the floor by the
force of the impact. Murray leaped across his prostrate
body, striking at the gun and knocking it down just in
time to send the second shot wild; Tholfsen stumbled
and fell across Ben.
Ben was up first, diving for Murray and Stevens, now
locked in close grapple, but the chess-player’s action
was more effective. From his prone position he reached
up, grabbed Stevens’ legs and pulled them from under
him, bringing him down with a crash, just as Ben’s
added weight made the struggle hopelessly one-sided.
In a moment more the dictator of the New York colony
was sitting on his subject’s chest while Murray held his
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
167
arms. Vanderschoof, with the instinctive terror of
the man of finance for physical violence, sat cowering
in his chair.
“Get — some wire,” gasped Ben. “Don’t think — cloth
will hold him.”
Tholfsen released his hold on the legs and climbed to
his feet, “Watch the other one, Murray,” said Ben, his
quick eye detecting a movement toward the gun on Van-
derschoof’s part.
“Now you, listen,” he addressed the man beneath
him. “We could tie you up and lay you away to pickle
until you died for the lack of whatever you need, or we
could turn you over to Beeville to cut up as a specimen,
and by God,” glaring with a kind of suppressed fury, “I
wouldn’t hesitate to do it! You’re jeopardizing the
safety of the whole community.”
The grim face beneath him showed neither fear nor
contrition. He hesitated a moment.
“If I let you go and give you a car and a couple of
batteries, will you promise to clear out and never come
back?”
Stevens laughed shortly. “Do you think you can
bluff me? No.”
“All right, Tholfsen, get his feet first,” said Ben, as
the chess-player reappeared with a length of light-cord
he had wrenched from somewhere. The feet kicked en-
ergetically, but the task was accomplished and the arms
secured likewise. “You watch him,” said Ben, “while I
get a car around.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Vanderschoof,
speaking for the first time since the scuffle.
“Throw him in the river!” declared Ben, with ruth-
less emphasis. “Let him get out of that.” Stevens
took this statement with a calm smile that showed not
the slightest trace of strain.
“But you can’t do that,” protested the steamship
man. “It’s — it’s inhuman.”
“Bring him outside boys,” said Ben, without deigning
to reply to this protest, and clanged out to the car.
They lifted the helpless man into the back seat, and
with a man on either side of him, started for Queens-
boro Bridge. The journey was accomplished in a dead
silence.
H alfway down the span, Ben brought the taxi
round with a flourish and climbed out, the other
two lifting Stevens between them. Murray looked
toward his friend, half expecting him to relent at the
last moment, but he motioned them wordlessly on, and
they set down their burden at the rail.
“Over with him!” said Ben remorselessly. They
bent . . .
“I give up,” said Stevens in a strangely husky voice.
Murray and Tholfsen paused.
“Did you hear what I said?” said Ben. “Over with
him!”
They heaved. “Stop!” screamed the broker. “For
God’s sake, I’ll give up. I’ll go. Oh-h-h!” The last
was a scream, as Ben laid a detaining hand on Mur-
ray’s arm.
“Let him down, boys,” he said quietly. “Now listen,
Stevens. I don’t want to be hard on you — but we’ve got
to have unanimity. You’re done. Take a car and clear
out. If I , let you go now, will you promise to stay
away ?”
“Yes,” said the Wall Street man. “Anything, only
for God’s sake don’t do that!”
“All right,” said Ben.
As they were loading the banker in the car for the
return trip a thought struck Murray. “By the way,
Ben,” he remarked, “didn’t he nick you with that gun?”
“That’s right,” said Ben, “he did.” And gazed down
at the long bright scratch in the heavy metal that cov-
ered his shoulder joint. It was uninjured.
CHAPTEK IV
Flight!
B ut when Tholfsen and Murray returned with the
I coal, Vanderschoof was missing as well as Stev-
ens, and that evening when the car in which
Marta Lami had accompanied Koberts on the explora-
tion of the Brooklyn Heights district drew up at the
Institute, it had only one occupant.
“What happened to Miss Lami?” asked Ben.
Roberts gazed at him, surprised. “Didn’t you send
them? While we were at the St. George Hotel a car
came along with Stevens and two of those new men
in it. One was the Greek. They spoke to her for a
minute and she said they brought a message from you
that she was to go with them.”
“M-hm,” said Ben. “I see. Well, as long as they
don’t come back, it’s all right.”
The car whirled out the Albany Post Road in a silence
that was indicative of the rivalry that had already
sprung up between Stevens and Vanderschoof. As for
Pappagourdas he found himself demoted to the position
of a “yes man.”
They had provided themselves with a liberal supply
of guns and ammunition, and with the foolish conserva-
tism of the very rich, refusing to believe that money
was valueless, had raided store after store until they
had acquired a considerable supply of currency.
“This is the Bear Mountain Bridge, isn’t it?” said
the dancer. “Let’s stop at West Point and pick up a
cadet. They’re so ornamental.”
Stevens glanced at her sourly from the wheel. “We’ve
got to hurry if we want to get to Albany,” he said.
“Still,” offered Vanderschoof protectingly, “why not
stop at the Point? We might find some people there. I
know Colonel Grayson. Played golf with him there last
summer. Ha, ha! When I holed out an eighteen-footer
at the seventh, he was so mad, he wouldn’t speak to me
all the rest of the afternoon. It was the turning point
of the battle. Ha, ha!”
Stevens, with a grunt, swung the wheel round and
began the ascent of the long bridge ramp. He realized
he had been outmaneuvered. To cover his retreat, he
remarked, “Isn’t that a bird?”
“The high muck-a-muck said something about birds
last night,” said the dancer, “but he’s such a Holy Joe
that I didn’t pay any attention.”
“Aren’t the birds all dead?” asked the Greek, respect-
fully. “I saw some in the gutter outside my window
and they were turned to iron.”
T he car coughed to the rise, made it and slid across
the bridge.
“It is a bird,” said the dancer, “and what a bird!
Papa, look at the ostrich.”
Pappagourdas and Vanderschoof followed her point-
ing finger. Along its direction they saw, a couple of
hundred feet behind and above them, the widespread
wings and heavy body of the same type of four-winged
bird Roberts had encountered. Vanderschoof tugged
at his pocket. “Maybe it’ll come close enough to give us
a shot,” he said hopefully.
The bird was certainly gaining on them, though the
speedometer of the car had risen beyond forty miles an
hour. As it drew nearer, they could make out the high-
domed, most un-birdlike head set with pop-eyes fixed
in a permanent expression of astonishment, the short
158 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
bill, slightly hooked at the tip, and the huge expanse of
the wings. It seemed to be inspecting them as a smaller
avian might inspect a bug crawling across a road.
As it drew nearer, it swooped to within a couple dozen
feet of the car; they noticed that its feet, folded back
beneath the body had a metallic luster. Then Vander-
Bchoof fired, with a bang that almost deafened the rest.
The bird seemed surprised rather than frightened or
resentful. At the sound of the gun it bounded upward a
few feet and then swung again, moving along parallel
with the car and twisting its neck to take a good look
at the passengers. The chance was too good to be
missed; both Pappagourdas and Vanderschoof fired this
time, steadying themselves against the motion of the
car. One of the shots evidently went home, for a couple
of feathers floated down, and the bird, with a series of
ear-piercing squawks, spiralled down the side of the
mountain toward the river-bank, three or four hundred
feet below.
"Bull’s eye!” yelled Pappagourdas. “Gimme the
cigar! Let’s stop the car and go get it.”
"What’s the use,” said Stevens, “you couldn’t eat it,
anyway. Listen to him yell, would you?”
Above the sound of the motor the screeching of the
wounded bird still reached them faintly from the bottom
of the cliff.
“I think it’s a damn shame to shoot up the poor
thing,” said Marta Lami.
“Oh, he’ll be all right,” declared Vanderschoof. “Don’t
believe we touched anything but one wing, and it’ll just
sit and eat ground-berries till it gets well.”
It was perhaps half an hour later, and the distant
hills were beginning to acquire a fine powder of dusk
when they saw the second bird — a rapidly moving speck,
far behind them and to one side of the road. Vander-
Bchoof saw it first and called the attention of the rest,
but they quickly lost interest.
He continued to observe it. Were there two? He
thought so, yet — . A moment later he was sure there
was more than one, as the car breasted a ris3 and gave
them a better view. They seemed to be following fast.
The ridiculous idea that they meant to do something
about their fallen comrade came to him, to be dismissed
instantly. Yet the birds were certainly following them
and he thought he made out a third, behind the others.
The car coasted down a long slope, crossed a bridge
and began to go up a hairpin rise. Vanderschoof looked
back. The birds were invisible; he looked again, in the
right direction this time and saw them, so much larger
and nearer that he cried out. The others ceased their
low-voiced conversation at the sound of his voice.
“What’s the matter, papa?” asked the dancer.
“Those birds. Look.”
“Why it looks almost as though they were following
us.”
She sat upright in the seat and squinted at them un-
der an upraised hand. The queer birds were close
enough now so that the difference between their fore-
wings and the steadily beating hind wings could be
made out.
“You don’t suppose they could be mad at us?” she
asked.
“Don’t be foolish,” said Stevens, without turning
around. “Birds aren’t intelligent enough for that.” A
long straight stretch lay before him and he let the car
out. Vanderschoof, watching with a trace of anxiety,
saw the birds also put on more speed. “They are fol-
lowing us,” he declared with conviction.
“Look,” said Marta Lami, “that one is carrying some-
thing, too.”
As she spoke, the bird, flying high, gained a position
just above and ahead of the car, drCpped the object and
instantly wheeled off and down to one side. There was
a hea^ thud on the road ahead, and a big rock bounded
and rolled a score of feet before the car.
Marta Lami screamed. Vanderschoof swore, with
feeling. “Get out your guns and drive them oft,” said
Stevens. “You fools, why did you have to shoot at
them in the first place ?”
Before he had finished speaking Vanderschoof had
his revolver out and was firing at the second of the
birds, now swinging into position above them with an-
other rock. He missed, but the bird, surprised, dropped
its burden too soon, and they had the satisfaction of
seeing it bounce among the trees at the right of the
road.
“Keep after them, that’s right,” said Stevens, “We’re
not far from the Point and we can get under cover
there.”
B oth the men in the back were shooting now —
' Vanderschoof slowly and with deliberate aim;
Pappagourdas in a panic-stricken rafale at the third
bird, which, higher thaii the others, paid not the slight-
est attenticm to them but jockeyed for position. Stev-
ens began to twist the steering wheel — the car described
a fantastic series of zigzags.
“What are they?” he asked. .“I never saw anything
like them.”
“I don’t know,” replied Vanderschoof. (Bang!) “Like
the condors (Bang!) I used to see in South America,
only bigger.”
Crash! The third rock burst in a shower of frag-
ments not ten feet away, one piece striking the wind-
shield with a ping, and sending a long diagonal crack
across it. The first of the three birds was swinging up
again with another rock, screeching hoarse communica-
tions at the others.
Marta Lami had fallen silent. As the bird began to
circle above them, picking its position, Pappagourdas
suddenly ceased firing, with a curse. “Have you got
any more bullets?” he asked. “Mine are all gone. . . .”
His voice broke suddenly, half-hysterical, “It is the
cranes of Ibicos,” he cried.
The stone struck behind them. Evidently the bird
had a healthy respect for Vanderschoof’s aim, which
had kept it at such a height that it could not aim accu-
rately. But as the next stone missed they changed
their tactics, screaming to each other. The third
bird, whose turn it was to drop a stone, merely flew
along parallel with them, high enough to be out of
range, waiting for the return of the others. When
they arrived, all three strung out in a line and released
their rocks simultaneously. There was a resounding
crash, the car reeled perilously on the edge of the steep
road, then righted and drove on with a clattering bang.
Looking over the side Vanderschoof could see where
the big rock had struck the right running board, tear-
ing a foot or two of it loose to trail on the road.
“Wait,” he cried, but Stevens shook his head.
They had a bit of luck at this point. The hunt for
more stones or something of the kind delayed their
enemies, and when they next saw the birds winging up
behind them, the white classical lines of the West Point
administration building already loomed ahead, clear in
the gathering gloom.
Stevens turned in, swung the car around at the door,
and halted it with screaming brakes, just as the first
of the birds overhead overshot the mark and turned to
come back. In an instant the banker was out of the
car, dragging at Marta Lami’s hand. Vanderschoof
climbed numbly out the other side, and ran around the
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
car toward the door of the building, but the Greek
missed his footing where the running board should have
been and fell prone, just as one of the birds dived down
with a yell of triumph and dropped his stone accurately
onto the struggling man.
“Kun!” shouted Stevens.
“But — the Greek,” panted Vanderschoof as they
climbed the steps.
“Hell with him. Or here — wait.” Stevens turned
and thrust his fist through the glass upper portion of
the door. Out in the duqk the three bird-forms were
settling round their fallen foe. The flash of the bank-
er’s gun stabbed the night and was answered by a
scream. Before he could take aim again, with a quick
beat of wings, they were gone and when, daring greatly,
he ran out a few moments later, he found that Pappa-
gourdas was gone also.
H e found the others on one of the benches in
the outer oflBce of the building, the girl with her
face buried in her hands in an agony of fright and
reaction. Vanderschoof, too old and cool a hand to give
way in this fashion, looked up.
“What are they, Stevens?” he asked.
The Wall Street man shrugged his shoulders help-
lessly. “I don’t know,” he said. “Some new kind of
high-power bird that developed while we were all being
made into machines by that comet, I suppose. It’s ter-
rible . . . They’ve got the Greek.”
“Can’t we get after them? There ought to be air-
planes here.”
160 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
“In this light? Can you fly one? I can’t and I don’t
imagine the little girl here can.’’
The “little girl’’ lifted her head. She had recovered.
“What did we come to this joint for, anyhow?’’ she
asked. “To hang crepe on the chandeliers?’’
The words had the effect of an electric shock.
“Why, of course,’’ said Stevens, “we did come here
to see if we could find someone, didn’t we?’’ and turning
round he pushed open the door into the next room.
Nothing.
“Wait,’’ he said. “Not much use trying to do anything
tonight. We haven’t any flashlights.’’
“Aw, boloney,’’ said the dancer, “what do you want
us to do? Sit here and count our fingers? Go on, big
boy, find a garage, you can get a light from one of the
“Won’t those birds see it?’’
“You got a yellow streak a mile wide, haven’t you?
Birds sleep at night.”
Stevens took a half-unwilling step toward the door.
“Let me come with you,” said Vanderschoof, rising.
“What’s the matter, papa? You got a little yellow
in you, too?”
He was dignified. “Not at all. Here I’ll leave my gun
with you. Miss Lami.”
“We’ll be seeing you,” said Stevens, over his shoulder.
“Don’t worry.” And they were gone.
To the dancer their absence was endless. She would
have given anything for the velvet kick of a good drink
of gin — “but I suppose it would burn out my bearings,”
she mused ruefully. Heavens, she must spend the rest
of her days as a robot. In the fading light she ruefully
contemplated the legs that had delighted the audiences
of two continents, now become ingenious mechanical de-
vices beyond the power of delighting anyone but their
owner.
More clearly than the rest, she realized that very
little was left of the old relation between the sexes.
What would happen when the forceful Stevens made the
discovery also? Probably he would make a thinking
robot of her to serve his ambition. Well, she had chosen
to go with them — ^they seemed to offer more amusement
than the stuffy prigs of the colony. . .
What was that?
She listened intently. A subdued rattling, slightly
metallic in character. It might be a rat — ^no, too mechan-
ical. The men — ^probably it was them, or one of them,
returning. She glanced out of the window. Not there.
The sound again — not from outdoors, but behind her —
within the room? She gripped the gun Vanderschoof
had given her. Rattle, rattle. She wished furiously
for a light.
The birds 7 No — ^birds sleep at night. Rattle, rattle.
Persistently. She stood up, trying to pierce the gather-
ing dimness. No, the birds would make more noise.
They moved surely, with hoarse screams, as though they
thought themselves the lords of the world. This sound
was small, like the chatter of a mechanical rat. What
new horror in this strange world might it not conceal ?
On slenderest tiptoes she backed cautiously across the
rug toward the outer door. Better the chance of the
birds than this unknown terror of the darkness.
Holding the gun before her firmly, she stepped back,
back, feeling with one hand for the door. Her hand met
its smooth surface, then clicked as the metallic joints
came in contact with the doorknob. She paused, breath-
less. Rattle, rattle, went the small sound, undiscouraged.
With a sudden jerk she flung the door open and tum-
bled down the steps, half-falling, and as she fell, as
though in answer to the metallic clang of her body on
the stone, a long pencil of violet light sprang silently
out from somewhere back in the hills, moved thrice
across the sky and then faded as swiftly as it had come.
She felt the beam of- a flashlight in her eyes, and got
up, hearing her voice with a sort of inward surprise as
it babbled something slightly incoherent about “things
— in there.”
Stevens’ voice, rough with irritation. “What is it
you’re saying?” He shook her arm. “Come on, little
woman, pull yourself together.”
“There must be someone else around here,” remarked
Vanderschoof, irrelevantly. "Did you see that search-
light?”
Marta Lami pulled herself up short, shaking loose the
hand with a touch of the arrogance that had made her
the queen of the night life of New York.
“Something in there gives me the heeby-jeebles,” she
said, pointing. “Sounds like some guy shooting craps
with himself.”
S tevens laughed, somewhat forcedly. “Well, it’s
nothing to be scared of, unless it’s one of those
damn birds, and if it was that he’d be taking us apart
now. Come on!”
He flung the door open and plunged in, the flashlight
flickering before him. Empty.
There was a door at the further end, next to the one
they had investigated before. Toward this he strode,
clump, clump on the carpet, and flung it open likewise.
Empty again. No, there was something. The questing
beam came to rest on a brown army tunic behind the
desk, followed it up quickly to the face and there held.
For, staring at them with mechanical fixity was an-
other of those simulations of the human face in metal
with which they were by now, so familiar. But this one
was different.
For it held the balance between the walking cartoons
of men in metal, such as they themselves were, and the
ugly and solid statues they had seen strewn about the
streets of New York. It had the metal bands across the
forehead that they possessed, above which issued the
same wiry hair, but in this case curiously interwoven
as though subjected to some great heat and melted into
a single mass. And the nose was all of solid metal, and
the eyes — ^the eyes . . . were the eyes of a statue, giving
back no lustrous reflexion of glass.
A moment they paused breathless, then stepped for-
ward, and as the beam of light shifted when Stevens
moved, rattle, rattle, came the sound Marta Lami had
heard, and when the light went back those unseeing eyes
had moved.
For a few seconds no one spoke. Then :
“Good God, it’s alive!” said Vanderschoof in a hushed
voice and a thrill of horror went through the others as
they recognized the truth of his words.
Stevens broke the spell, stepping swiftly to the desk.
“Can we do anything for you?” he asked. No move-
ment from the metal figure — only that ghastly rustle of
the eyes as they turned here and there in the fixed head,
searching for the light they would never find again. The
Wall Street man lifted one of the hands, tried to flex
the arm that held it. It dropped back to the deck with
a crash. Yet the metal of which they were composed
seemed in itself to be as pliant as that of their own
arms.
A feeling of wonderment mingled with the horror of
the spectators.
“What happened to him?” asked Marta Lami in a
whisper as though she feared awakening a sleeper.
Stevens shrugged. “What’s happened to all of us?
He’s alive, I tell you. Let’s . . . get out of here. I don’t
like it.”
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
161
“But where to?” asked Vanderschoof.
“Follow the Albany road,” said Stevens. “We ought
to move on. If those birds come back in the morning — ”
he left the sentence unfinished.
“But what about this poor egg?” asked Marta Lami.
“Leave him,” said Stevens, then suddenly giving way,
“there’s too much mystery about this whole business
around here. I’m going, I tell you, going. You can stay
here till you rot if you like. I’m clearing out.”
CHAPTER V
The Menace
N aturally, exploration of the familiar, yet un-
familiar world into which they had suddenly
been thrown was the first preoccupation of the
New York colonists. None of the group cared to wan-
der far from the Institute during the first weeks, how-
ever, in view of the possible difficulty of obtaining elec-
trical food for a long trip, and Beeville’s researches on
the potentialities of their new bodily form advanced so
slowly that they hardly dared leave.
His discoveries in the first weeks were, in fact, purely
negative. Farrelly, the publisher, smashed a finger in
some machinery, but when O’Hara turned an exact
duplicate out on his lathe and Beeville attached it, the
new member altogether lacked sensation and could be
moved only with conscious effort — an indication that
some as yet unfamiliar reaction underlay the secret of
motion in their metal form.
But the greatest difficulty in the way of any activity
lay in the almost abysmal ignorance of the mechanical
and technical arts on the part of the whole group.
O’Hara was a fair mechanic; Dangerfield dabbled in
radio, and Farrelly could run a printing press (he pub-
lished a comical parody of a newspaper on one for sev-
eral days ; then abandoned the effort) ; but beyond that
the utmost accomplishment was driving a car, and most
of them realized how helpless the old civilization had
been without its hewers of wood and drawers of water.
To remedy this condition, as much as to keep them
busy, Ben assigned to each some branch of mechanical
science to be learned, the supply of information, in the
form of books, and of experimental material, in every
form, being inexhaustible. Thus the first week found
Tholfsen and Mrs. Roberts scouring the line of the New
York Central for a locomotive in running order. After
numerous failures, they succeeded in getting the thing
going, only to discover that the line was blocked with
wrecks and they would need a crane to clear the track
for an exploring journey of even moderate length.
At the same time, Murray Lee, with Dangerfield and
two or three others, made an effort to get the Park
Central’s broadcasting station in operation; a work of
some difficulty, since it involved ventures into what
were, for them, unknown fields. Daily they tap-tapped
messages to each other on telegraph sets rescued from
a Western Union office, in preparation for the time
when they could get a sending set put together.
But the most ambitious effort and the one that was
to have the largest share of ultimate consequences,
was the expedition of Farrelly, Gloria and a clothing-
store proprietor named Kevitz in quest of naval ad-
venture. After a week’s intensive study of marine
engines from books the three appropriated a tug from
the Battery and set off on a cruise of the harbor.
Half an hour later they were high and dry off Bed-
loe’s Island, gloomily contemplating the prospect of
spending their lives there, for an attempt to swim when
weighted down with three hundred pounds of hardware
could end only in failure. Fortunately the tide came
to their rescue, and with more daring than judgment.
they continued their voyage to Governor’s Island, where
they were lucky enough to find a solitary artilleryman,
weak with hunger, but hilarious with delight at the dis-
covery that his metallic form was not a delirium
tremens delusion induced by the quart of gin he had
absorbed on the night before the change.
The giant birds, which Beeville had professionally
named “tetrapteryxes,” seemed to have vacated the city
with the appearance of the colonists. Even the nest
Roberts had stumbled on proved deserted when an ex-
I>edition cautiously revisited the place; and the memory
of the birds had sunk to the level of a subject for idle
remarks when a new event precipitated it into general
attention.
Massey, the artist, with all the time in the world, and
the art supplies of New York under his finger, had gone
off on an artistic jag, painting day and night. One
morning he took his canvas to the top of the Daily
News building to paint the city at dawn from its
weather-observation station. The fact that he had to
climb stairs the whole way up and finally chisel through
the door at the top was no bar to his enthusiasm.
Kevitz, hurrying down Lexington Avenue in a car to
join his fellow mariners in investigating the machinery
of a freighter, saw him in the little steel cage, sil-
houetted against the reddening light of day.
There was an informal rule that everyone should
gather at the Institute at ten in the evening, unless
otherwise occupied, to reiwrt on the day’s events, and
when Massey did not appear two or three people made
comments on the fact, but it was not treated as a mat-
ter of moment. When the artist had not shown up by
dawn of the next day, however, Murray and Gloria
went to look for him, fearing accident. As they ap-
proached the building Murray noticed that the edge of
the weather observation platform was twisted awry.
He speeded up his car, but when they arrived and
climbed the mountainous flights of stairs he found no
bent and damaged form, as he had expected.
T he roof of the building held nothing but the paint-
ing on which he had been working — a half-com-
pleted color sketch of the city as seen from the tower.
“Where do you s’pose he went?” asked Gloria.
“Don’t know, but he went in a hurry,” replied Mur-
ray. “He doesn’t care about those paintings much more
than he does about his life.”
“Maybe he took a tumble,” she suggested. "Look,
there’s his easel, and it’s busted.”
“Yes, and that little chair he totes around, and look
how it’s all twisted out of shape.”
“Let’s look over the edge. Maybe he went bugs and
jumped. I knew a guy that did that once.”
“Nothing doing," said Murray, peering over the
parapet of the building.
Mystery.
“Say — ” it was Gloria who spoke. "Do you suppose
those birds — the tetra-axes or whatever Beeville calls
them — ?”
They turned and scanned the sky. The calm blue
vault, flecked by the fleecy clouds of summer, gave no
hint of the doom that had descended on the artist.
“Nothing to do but go home, I guess,” said Murray,
“and report another robbery in Prospect Park.”
The meeting of the colonists that evening was seri-
ous.
“It comes to this, then,” said Ben, finally. "These
birds are dangerous. I’m willing to grant that it might
not have been they who copped Massey, but I can’t
think of anything else. I think it’s a good idea for us
162 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
to leave here only in pairs and armed, until we’re cer-
tain the danger is over,"
“Ain’t that kind of a strong step, Mr. Euby?” asked
Kevitz. “It don’t seem to me like all that business is
necessary.”
Ben shook his head decisively. “You haven’t seen
these things,’’ he said. “In fact, I think it would be
a good idea for us all to get some guns and ammuni-
tion and do target practice.”
The meeting broke up on that note and the members
of the colony filed into the room where the supply of
arms was stored, and presently to form an automobile
procession through the streets in search of a suitable
shooting gallery.
When targets were finally set up in the street in
automobile lights, the general mechanical efficiency of
the colony revealed itself once more. Gloria Kuther-
ford was a dead shot and the artilleryman from Gov-
ernor's Island almost as good ; Ben himself and Murray
Lee, who had been to Plattsburg, knew at least the
mechanism of rifles, but the rest could only shut their
eyes and pull the trigger, with the vaguest of ideas as
to where the bullet would go. And as Ben pointed out
after the buildings along the street had been peppered
with the major portion of Abercrombie and Fitch’s
stock of ammunition, the supply was not inexhaustible.
"And what shall we do for weapons then ?” he asked.
Yoshio, the little Japanese, raised his hand for at-
tention.
"I have slight suggestion, perhaps merely cat’s
meow and not worthy exalted attention/’ he offered.
“Why not all people as gentlemen old time in my coun-
try, carry sword? It is better than without weapon."
“Why not, indeed?” said Ben above a hum of laugh-
ter. “Let’s go.” And an hour later the company re-
emerged from an antique store, belted with the strang-
est collection of swords and knives and fishing gaffs
ever borne by an earthly army.
“I wonder, though,” said Gloria to Murray Lee, as
they reached the Institute as dawn was streaking up
the sky. “All this hooey doesn’t seem to mean much.
If those birds are as big as that they aren’t going to
be scared by these little toad-stabbers."
She was right. That night Ola Mae Roberts was
missing.
HE siege came a week later.
It was a week of strained tenseness; a certain
electricity seemed at hand in the atmosphere, inhibiting
speech. The colonists felt almost as though they were
required to whisper . . .
A week during which Murray, with Dangerfield and
Tholfsen, worked energetically at their radio, and pro-
gressed far enough so they could do a fairly competent
job of sending and receiving in Morse code. A week
during which the naval party got a freighter from the
South Street d'cks and brought her round into the
Hudson.
At dawn one morning, Gloria, with Farrelly, Kevitz
and Yoshio, piled into a limousine with the idea of tak-
ing the freighter on a trip to Coney Island. Murray
accompanied them to tri"- communicating with the shore
via the ship’s wireless.
The day was dark, with lowering clouds, which ex-
plains why they missed seeing the tetrapteryxes. But
for the General Sherman statue they never would have
seen them until too late. The general’s intervention
was purely passive ; Murray noticed and called Gloria’s
attention to the curious expression the misty light
gave the bronze face and she looked up to see, to be
recalled to her driving by a yell from Kevitz announc-
ing the metallic carcass of a policeman squarely in their
path.
Gloria twisted the wheel sharply to avoid it; the car
skidded on the damp pavement, and reeling crazily,
caromed into the iron fence around the statue with a
crash. At the same moment an enormous mass of rock
struck the place where they should have been and burst
like a shell, sending a shower of fragments whistling
about their ears.
Shaken and dazed by the shock, they rolled out of
the car, for the moment mistaking the two impacts for
one; and as they did so there came a rush of wild
wings, an eldritch scream and Yoshio was snatched into
the air before their very eyes. Kevitz fired first, wildly
and at random. Murray steadied himself, dropping
his gun across his left forearm, and shot cool and
straight — ^but at too great a distance, and they saw
nothing but a feather or two floating down from the
great four-winged bird as it swung off over Central
Park, carrying the little Jap. They saw him squirm in
the thing’s grip, trying to get his sword loose, and then
with a rattle of dropped stones around them, more of
the birds charged home.
Only Gloria had thought of this and withheld her
fire. The others swung round as she shot and in an in-
stant the whole group was a maze of whirling wings,
clutching claws, shouts, shots and screams. In twenty
seconds it was done: Gloria and Murray rose panting
and breathless, and looked about. Beside them, two.
gigantic bird-forms were spilling their lives in con-
vulsive agony. Dangerfield and Farrelly were gone —
and a rending screech from behind the buildings told
only too well where.
“What’s the next step?” asked Murray with such
owlish solemnity that Gloria gave a burst of half-
hysterical laughter. She looked round.
“Beat it for that building,” she said, and gathering
her torn skirts about her, set the example.
They made it by the narrowest of margins, standing
breathless in what had been, the Peacock Alley of one
of New York’s finest hotels to see one of the great
birds strut past the door like a clumsy caricature of
an angel.
"And poo-poo for you,” said Murray, thumbing his
nose at the .apparition, “But what we’ll do now I don’t
know.”
“Play pinochle till they come look us up,” suggested
Gloria. “Besides, my bullets are all gone.”
. . . They waited all day, taking tentative glances
from one or another of the windows. The birds re-
mained Invisible, apparently not caring for the pros-
pect of a battle in the constricted space of the hotel
rooms. But amid the rain and low-hung clouds they
might be lurking just outside and both Murray and
Gloria judged it too dangerous to venture a dash. As
night came on, however, they made a try for the ho-
tel’s garage, achieved it without accident, and between
them, rolled one of the cars to the door.
“Wait,” said Murray, as Gloria got in, “what was
that?”
“This dam’ starter.” She stirred her foot vigor-
ously. “It won’t work.”
“No, Wait.” He held out a restraining hand. A
sudden gust of wind bore a dash of rain down against
them and with it, from the northeast, a far-away
scream, then a tapping and a heavy thud.
“Hot dog!” ejaculated Murray. “They’re getting
after the crowd. And at night, too.”
The car jerked forward suddenly as the starter
caught. “Hold it,” cried Murray. “Douse those head-
lights.” They dodged the wreck of a street car, avrung
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
16S
round a comer and headed for First Avenue, gather-
ing speed. Another corner, taken on two wheels in the
darkness, the way to the Institute lay before them.
Suddenly a great flame of light sprang out in the
sky, throwing the whole scene into sharpest relief.
There was a crash of rifle-fire from window and door
of the building and across the front of it one of the
birds coasted past. Crash! In the street before them
something like a bomb burst, vomiting pennons of
fire. Gloria swung the wheel, swung it back; they had
a mad glimpse of brilliantly burning flames inside one
of the buildings across the street from the Institute,
and then they were tumbling out of the car with rifle-
fire beating all around them and the thud of dropping
objects on either side.
M URKAY stumbled, but the door was flung open
and they were jerked in, just as one of the huge
bird forms flung itself down past them.
“Thank God, you’re safe,’’ said Ben Ruby’s voice.
“They got Dearborn and Harris and they’re besieg-
ing us here.’’ He pointed out of the window across
the street, where the rapidly-gaining fire was engulf-
ing the building.
“Did the birds do that little trick?’’ asked Gloria.
“I hope “to tell you, sister. You ain’t seen nothing
yet, either. They’re shedding incendiary bombs all
over the shop. How about Kevitz and Farrelly?’’
“Got them, too. At the Plaza — and the little Jap.
Too bad; I liked that little sprout.’’
“I thank gracious lady for kindly expressed senti-
ment, but oversize avians have not yet removed me,”
said a voice and Gloria looked down to see Yoshio bow-
ing at her side.
“Why, how did they come to let you off? Last I saw
you were doing a headspin over Central Park.”
“I was fortune,” replied the little man. “Removing
sword I operate on said bird to such extent that he
drop me as hot customer, plosh in large tree. To get
home is not so easy but I remember armored car pro-
vided by intelligent corporation for transport of bank-
roll, so here I am. Cat’s Meow!”
“Bright boy,” said Gloria. “Listen!” Above their
heads came another crash, a tramp of feet and shouts.
Roberts dashed into the room, rifle in hand. “They’ve
got the place on fire,” he said. “We’ll have to clear
out.”
Ben Ruby fumbled at his waist, drew forth a whistle
and blew a piercing blast, which was answered by
shouts, as members of the colony began to pour into
the room from various points.
Another bomb burst in a fluff of light, just outside
the window, throwing weird shadows across the gath-
ering and splitting a pane here and there by the force
of its impact.
“Hot stuff,” remarked Gloria. “What are they try-
ing to do — take us all at one gulp?”
“Beeville says they never thought it up on their
own,” Ben assured her. “Not smart enough. He
thinks somebody doesn’t like us and is sending them
around to tell us so. Listen, everybody!”
The room quieted down.
“We’ve got to go at once. Our destination is the
Times Square subway station. They can’t get us
there. Anybody who gets separated meet the rest
there. We’ll go in groups of three to a car; one to
carry a gun, one a sword and one a light. Everybody
got It? . . . Good . . . Somebody give Gloria one of
those express rifles . . . Here’s the list then. First
party — Miss Rutherford, gun; Yoshio, sword; O’Hara,
light. Go ahead.”
A coil of smoke drifted across the room from some-
where above — the sough of the burning made the only
background to his words. With a quick handshake the
three made ready; a volley from the windows flashed
out, and they dashed off. Those inside caught a glimpse
of the dark form of their car as it rolled into the night.
They were safe at all events. The second carload, in
Yoshio’s armored vehicle, also got free, but the third
had trouble. They had hardly made half the distance
to the parked cars before there was a whir of wings,
a scream, and the quick burst of a bomb, luckily too
far behind them to do damage. Those inside saw the
light-man stop suddenly, flashing his beam aloft, saw
an orange flame spring from the gun and then their
view of the three was blotted out in a whirl of wings
and action.
“Everybody out!” yelled Ben. “Now! While they’re
busy.” In a concerted rush the colonists poured
through the door.
Nobody could remember clearly what did happen.
Someone was down — hurt somewhere — but was flung
into a car. Through the turmoil the tossing form of
one badly-wounded bird struggled on the ground, and
with a roar of motors the cavalcade started.
CHAPTER VI
The Terror by Night
I T WOULD be futile — and impossible — to chronicle
all the events of that wild ride; to tell how the
light-bombs dropped unceasingly from above; how
the driver of one car, blinded by the glare, hurtled
his vehicle through the plate-glass window of a store,
and how McAllister, the artilleryman, fought off the
birds with a huge shard of glass from the window ;
how the passengers in another car, wrecked by a bomb,
got a fire-engine and cleared their way to Times
Square with clanging bell and clouds of malodorous
fire-extinguisher chemicals; or how Mrs. Roberts de-
capitated one of the monsters with a single blow of
the cleaver she carried.
Dawn found them, a depressed group of fourteen,
gathered in the protection of the underground pas-
sages.
“Well, what next?” asked Gloria, who seemed to
have preserved more of her normal cheerfulness than
anyone. “Do we stay here till they come for us, or
do we go get ’em?”
“We get out,” said Ben Ruby. “No good here. They
know too much for us.”
“Right,” declared Beeville. “The usual methods of
dealing with animals won’t work this time. They are
all based on the fact that animals are creatures of
habit instead of intelligence, and unless I am much
wrong, these birds are intelligent and have some big-
ger intelligence backing them.”
“You mean they’ll try to bomb us out of here?”
asked Roberts.
McAllister looked up from the dice he was throw-
ing. “You bet your sweet life they will. Those ba-
bies know their stuff. The one that was after me was
onto the manual of the bayonet like he’d been raised
on it.”
“That’s nice,” said Gloria, “but what are we going
to do about it?”
“Get an anti-aircraft gun from the Island and shell
hell out of them when they come round again,” sug-
gested the artilleryman.
“Said gun would be considerable weight for indi-
vidual to transport in pocket,” said Yoshio doubtfully,
as Ben raised his hand for silence amid the ensuing
laughter.
/
164 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
“There’s a good deal in that idea,” he said, “but I
don’t think it will do as it stands. The birds would
bomb our gun to blazes after they had a dose or two
from it. They’re not so slow themselves you know.
How about some of the forts? Aren’t there some big
ones around New York?”
McAllister nodded. “There’s Hancock. We could
get a ship through.”
“Say I” Gloria leaped suddenly to her feet. “While
we’re about it, can’t we get a warship — a battleship
or something? Those babies would have a hot time
trying to bomb one of Uncle Sam’s battleships apart
and there’s all kinds of anti-aircraft guns on them.”
“There’s a destroyer in the Hudson,” said someone.
“How many men does it take to run her?”
“Hundred and fifty.”
“But,” put in Gloria, “that’s a hundred and fifty of
the old style men who had to have their three squares
and eight hours’ sleep every day, and they did a lot
of things like cooking that we won’t have to. What
do you say. Dictator, old scout? Shall we give it a
whirl?”
“O. K. — unless somebody has something better to
offer,” declared Ben, and in fifteen minutes more the
colonists were cautiously poking their way out of the
subway station en route to take command of U. S. S.
Ward.
Cleaning up the ship before the start took the colon-
ists a whole day. A sooty dust, like the product of a
particularly obnoxious factory, had settled over every-
thing, and dealing with the cast-iron bodies of the
sailors, wedged in the queer corners where they had
fallen at the moment of the change, was a job in itself.
As night shut down, the whole crew, with the ex-
ception of Beeville and Murray Lee, who had spent
some time in small boats and had therefore been ap-
pointed navigators, was busy going over the engine-
room, striving to learn the complex detail of handling
a warship.
Murray and Beeville were poring over their navi-
gating charts when a step sounded outside the chart-
room and the wire-frizzled head of Gloria was thrust in.
“How goes it, children?” she asked. “Do we sail
for the cannibal islands at dawn?”
“Not on your life,” replied Murray. “This hooker
is going to pull in at the nearest garage until we learn
what it’s all about. Talk about arithmetic! This is
worse than figuring out a time-table.”
Gloria laughed, then her face became serious. “Do
you think they’ll bomb us again, Mr. Beeville?”
“I don’t see why not. They were clear winners in
the last battle. But what gets me is where they come
from. Why, they’re a living refutation of the laws of
evolution on the earth! Four wings and two legs!
Although ...” the naturalist looked at the sliding
parts of his own arm, “they are rather less incredible
than the evolution that has overtaken mankind, unless
we’re all off our heads. Do you know any way to ac-
count for it?”
“Not me,” said Murray, “that’q supposed to be your
job; all we do is believe you when — ” Bang! The
anti-aircraft gun had gone off just outside with an
earsplitting report. With a common impulse the three
made for the door and looked upward to see the shell
burst in a puff of white smoke, outlined against the
dark clouds of evening, while above and beyond it
sailed a black dot with whirring wings.
“That settles it,” said Murray. “Whether we like
it or not, we’re going away from here. I wish those
nuts hadn’t fired though. Now the birds know what
we’ve got. Trot down and tell them to get up steam,
that’s a good girl, Gloria.”
The lone tetrapteryx seemed no more than a scout,
for the attack was not followed up. But it takes time
to get steam up on long disused marine engines and
all hands were below when the real attack was de-
livered.
It began with the explosion of a bomb somewhere
outside and a dash of water against the vessel’s side
that threw all of them off their feet. There was a
clang of metal and a rush for the deck — cut across by
Ben’s voice. “Take it easy! Everybody to the en-
gines but McAllister, O’Hara and the navigators.”
The four sprang for the ladder, Murray in the lead.
Crash! A sound like the thunder of a thousand tons
of scrap iron on a sidewalk and the destroyer pitched
wildly.
Murray’s head came level with the deck. Instead of
the darkness he had expected it was flung into dazzling
illumination by a flare burning on the water not fifty
yards away, with a light so intense that it seemed to
have physical body. There was a perceptible wave of
heat from it and the water round it boiled like a caul-
dron.
He tumbled onto the deck, running forward to trip
the release of the anchor chain. At the break of the
forecastle, he stumbled, and the stumble saved him,
for at that moment another of the bombs fell, just in
front of the fore-deck gun. The whole bow of the
ship seemed to burst into intense, eye-searing flame.
Deafened and blinded, Murray lay face down on the
deck, trying to recover his senses; behind him the
others, equally overwhelmed, tumbled on the iron sur-
face, rolling over and over, blindly.
But the birds, apparently unaware of how heavy a
blow they had struck, seemed wary of the gun. 'The
four groveling on the deck heard scream and answer-
ing scream above them as the monsters discussed the
question on the wing. If they reached a decision it
was too late, for McAllister and O'Hara, blind, drunk
and sick though they were, staggered to the gun and
sent a shot shrieking at wild venture into the heavens.
Beeville, nearer to the blinding blaze of light, recov-
ered more slowly, but found his way to the bridge
where he fumblingly pulled the engine-room telegraph
over to “Full Speed Ahead.”
Below, in the bowels of the vessel, there was a rum-
ble of activity; a rapid whoosh of steam came from
an exhaust pipe, a dash of sparks from the destroyer’s
funnels, and slowly and haltingly she began to move.
Bang! went the anti-aircraft gun. Beeville heard
Murray climbing the bridge behind him and then his
cry, ‘The anchor!”
Too late — with a surge that changed to a rattle, the
destroyer moved, tearing the anchor from its ground
and swinging slowly half-way round as the weight
dragged the damaged bow to one side. At that mo-
ment came another bomb which, but for their motion,
would have struck fair and square amidships. Bang!
Bang! went the anti-aircraft gun. Murray dragged
at the wheel, then swung the engine-room telegraph
back to “Stop.” Just in time — ^the destroyer’s bottom
grated on something, her prow rent the side of a big
speed-boat and she came to rest, pointing diagonally
upstream.
Fortunately the attack broke off as rapidly as it had
begun. A few screams, lost in the darkness of the
night were the only answer to another shell from the
gun. But there was no assurance that this was more
than a temporary respite. Murray and Beeville strove
desperately to bring the warped bridge mechanism
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
165
into running order while O’Hara routed out a blow-
torch from somewhere and attacked the anchor chain,
now welded into a solid mass with the deck by the
force of the light-bomb. Finally, weaving to and fro
in the hands of the inexperienced mariners, she was
gotten round and pointed downstream and out to sea.
If the birds sought them again in the darkness there
was no sign of it.
Day found them stumbling down the Jersey coast,
the foredeck a mass of wreckage and the ship leaking
badly.
“Well, where are we now?” called a cheerful voice,
as Murray Lee stood at the wheel. “Australia in sight
yet?”
He looked up to see Gloria’s head emerging from
the companion,
“Come on up,” he said, “I’m just going to turn the
wheel over to Beeville and get busy with this radio.
Don’t think the bomb knocked it out. It did every-
thing else, though. Look at that.”
He indicated the prow of the ship, where the big
gun hung down like a tired candle and the whole fore
part of the vessel had dissolved into tears of metal.
“Golly,” said Gloria, “that was some egg those birds
laid. What was it, ansrway?”
“Don’t know. Never saw anything like it before.
Must be some kind of new-fangled high-power incen-
diary bomb to melt steel down like butter. Why, even
thermit wouldn’t do that.”
“I hope our friends don’t think of looking us up
here, then, or we’ll be finding out what it’s like to
walk under water.”
“You said something, sister,” declared Murray.
“Wait! I think it got something.”
He fumbled with the radio dials before him, swing-
ing them this way and that: then clamped on the head-
set. “Oh, boy, there’s something coming through . . .
we’re not alone in the world then . . . Yes, there she
is . . . Damn, I wish they wouldn’t send so fast . . .
AAM2 calling . . . Now who is AAM2?” His fingers
pressed the key in reply as the others watched him
with bated breath. “Position, seventy-three, fifty-three
west longitude; forty, o-three, north latitude. Here
...” he wrote the figures down. “Take this, one of
you and dope it out. Ssh, there’s more coming. Oh,
he wants to know who we are and where. Call Ben,
will you Gloria?”
She dashed off to return with the dictator of the
colonists just as Beeville, who had been fumbling over
the charts with one hand, called suddenly, “Why, the
position they give is right near here — hardly a hun-
dred miles away. I don’t know just what ours is, but
it can’t be far from this spot. Tell them that.”
“Find out who they are first,” Ben put in, prac-
tically. “After what they’ve done, I wouldn’t put it
past the tetrapteryxes to handle a radio set.”
“ . . . His Majesty’s Australian ship Brisbane, they
say,” said Murray. “Wait a minute, since they’re so
near, I think I can switch them over to the radiophone.”
He ticked the key a moment, then twisted more dials
and leaned back as a full and fruity voice, with a strong
English accent, filled the room.
“Compliments of Captain Entwhistle of the Royal
Australian Navy to the commander of the U. S. S.
Ward, and can we arrange a meeting? The Comet
appears to have done a good deal of damage in your
part of the world and you are the first people we have
encountered.”
“Where’s your microphone?” asked Ben. “Oh, there
. . . Compliments of Benjamin Franklin Ruby, tem-
porarily in command of U. S. S. Ward to Captain
Entwhistle of the Royal Australian Navy, and none
of us are sailors. We just borrowed this ship, and
if you want to see us you’ll have to pick us up. We’ll
keep along the coast toward Cape May. Can you
meet us?”
A chuckle was audible from the radiophone. “I
think we can manage it. Are there any of the big
birds about in your part of the world? They have
been bothering us all summer.”
“Yes,” replied Ben, “that’s what we’re running away
from now. They’ve got some bombs that are pure
poison and they’ve been making regular war on us —
or probably you know about it?”
“We haven’t seen anything like that yet,” declared
the voice from the loud-speaker, “but we’ve had plenty
of trouble with them. Hold on a moment. Our look-
out reports sighting smoke from your funnels. Hold
your course and speed. We’ll pick you up.”
The voice ceased with a snap, and the four in the
control room of the destroyer looked at each other.
“I’m glad he came around,” remarked Ben. “This
destroyer is getting shopworn. Besides with a good
warship on hand we’ll be able to give those birds what
they’re looking for. I hope he’s got some airplanes.”
“And somebody to fly them,” continued Murray.
“What’ll we do if he has — go back and give them hell ?”
“If we can. Apparently he doesn’t like the birds
any too well himself. It was the first thing he men-
tioned.”
They ceased speaking as the thin pennon of smoke,
followed by two tall masts, became visible over the
horizon. In a few minutes more the Brisbane swept
up, swung a circle and came to rest near them, while
out from her side dropped a boat that began to move
toward them with dipping oars.
A moment later she was alongside. Ben stepped
out on the deck, and as he did so, there was a mutual
exclamation of horrified amazement — for Captain Ent-
whistle of the Royal Australian Navy was as much
flesh and blood as any man they had seen in the old
days, but a pale blue in color, and all his sailors were
of the same extraordinary hue.
CHAPTER VII
An Exploration
T HERE was a moment’s silence as the Australian
captain steadied himself against the roll of the
vessel, staring incredulously at the group that
gathered round him. '
“Are you — human?” he finally managed to gasp.
“If we aren’t somebody’s been kidding us,” said
Gloria, irreverently. “But are you? You’re all blue!”
“Of course,” said the captain. “It was the comet.
We knew it struck in America somewhere but didn’t
know where or what it did. What’s the matter with
your ship?” He indicated the wrecked and leaking
bow. “She seems to be down by the head.”
“Oh, that was a valentine from the birds,” said Ben.
"Can you give us quarters on your vessel? There
aren’t many of us.”
Captain Entwhistle seemed to come out of a dream.
"Of course, of course. Come on. We can discuss
things better in my cabin.”
As they mounted to the deck of the Brisbane, even
the trained sailors, the light blue of their faces oddly
at variance with the dark blue of their uniforms, could
not refrain from staring at the colonists. They
crowded into the captain’s cabin past rows of eager
blue faces.
“I suggest,” said Captain Entwhistle, "that we be-
gin by telling each other how this happened. I can
166 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
scarcely credit the fact that you are human and can
walk and talk. Would any of you care for a whiskey
and soda?”
“No, thanks,” said Murray, the spirit of fun stir-
ring in him, “but I’ll have a drink of lubricating oil
if you can find any.”
The naval officer looked at him, and remarked, a
trifle stiffly, “Certainly, if you wish. Williams — ”
“Oh, don’t mind him,” Ben Kuby cut in. "Pardon
me. Captain, he can drink lubricating oil perfectly
well, but he’s just joking with you. You were saying
about the comet — ”
“Why, you knew that the big comet struck the earth
as predicted, didn’t you? It was on the morning of
February sixteenth, last year — evening of February
fifteenth by American time. Even in our country,
which is around on the other side of the earth, it
caused a good deal of damage. The gases it set free
put everybody to sleep and caused a lot of wreckage.
Our scientists say the gases of the comet in some un-
explained way altered the Iron in the hemoglobin of
our blood to cobalt. It seems to work just as well, but
that’s why we’re all blue. I don’t quite understand
it myself, but you know how these medical Johnnies
are. Now what happened to you people?”
“May I ask something first?” said Beeville. “What
day is this?”
“August eighteenth, 1946,” said the captain as
though slightly baffled by the question.
“Good God!” said the scientist. “Then we were
there for over a year!”
“Yes,” said Ben. “All of us you see here and sev-
eral others returned to consciousness about the same
time, two months ago. We know nothing of what the
comet did to us or how this change occurred except
that when we woke up we were just what you see.
Dr. Beeville has been experimenting with a view to
finding out what happened, but he hasn’t made much
progress so far. All we know is that we’re composed
of metal that doesn’t rust easily, make our meals off
electricity, and find the taste of any kind of oil agree-
able, And the birds — ” he broke off with a gesture,
“Oh, yes, the birds,” said the captain. “Have they
been annoying you, too? That’s one of the reasons,
aside from exploration, why we’re here. I assume you
mean the big four-\vinged birds that we call dodos
down under. We haven’t seen much of them, but
occasionally they come and fly away with a sheep
or even a man. One of our aviators chased one sev-
eral hundred miles out to sea recently and we had
assumed they came from one of the islands. Our sci-
entists don’t know what to make of them.”
“Neither do ours, except that they’re an unadul-
terated brand of hell,” put in Murray. “We were all
living in New York, snug as bugs in a rug, when they
began dropping incendiary bombs on us and carrying
off anyone they could get hold of.”
“Including this insignificant person,” said Yoshio,
proudly.
“Incendiary bombs! Do you mean to tell me they
have intelligence enough for that?”
“I’ll tell the cockeyed world they have! Did you
see the prow of our ship? That’s where one of their
little presents got home. If anyone had been there,
he wouldn’t be anything but scrap iron now. If you
really want to find out what it’s all about come on up
to New York, but get ready for the fight of your life.”
The captain leaned back, sipping his drink medi-
tatively. “Do you know,” he said, “that’s just what I
was thinking of doing? Frankly your story is all but
incredible, but here you are as proof of it and you
don’t seem to be robots, except in appearance.”
“Oh, boy,” whispered Murray to Gloria, “wait till
these babies get after the birds with their eight-inch
guns. They’ll wish they’d never heard of us. I’m glad
I’m going to be on hand to see the fun.”
“Yeh, but maybe the birds will have something up
their feathers, too,” she replied. "I wouldn’t like to
place any bets. We thought we had them licked when
we got the destroyer and now look at us.”
“Well, I’m willing to try an attack, or at least a
reconnaissance of them,” said the captain. “Just now
we’re in the position of an armed exploring party.
The Australian government has sent out several ships
to see what it could find on the other continents. After
the comet struck all the cables went dead. We got
into radio communication with the Dutch colonial sta-
tions at Batavia and later with South Africa, but the
rest of the world is just being re-explored and my com-
mission authorizes me to resist unfriendly acts. I
think you could call an incendiary bomb an unfriendly
act.”
H IS eyes twinkled over this mild witticism, and the
party broke up with a scraping of chairs. A
couple of hours later, the blue line of Sandy Hook was
visible, and then the vague cliffs of the New York sky-
scrapers. The clouds had cleared away after the rain
of the last few days; not even a speck of mist hung
in the air and everything stood out bright and clear.
The colonists felt a pang of emotion grip them as they
watched the tall towers of the city rise over the hori-
zon, straight and beautiful as they had always stood,
but now without a sign of life or motion, all the busy
clamor of the place hushed forever.
Of the tetrapteryxes or “dodos” as the Australian
had called them, there was no sign. The sky bent high,
unbrokenly blue, not a flicker of motion in it. Mur-
ray Lee felt someone stir at his side and looked round.
"Oh, damn,” said Gloria Eutherford, “it’s so beau-
tiful that I want to cry. Did you ever feel like that?”
He nodded silently . . . “And those birds — isn’t it
a shame somehow that they should have the most beau-
tiful city in the world?”
The shrill of a whistle cut off his words. With mar-
velous, machine-like precision, the sailors moved about
the decks. The Brisbane lost way, came to a halt, and
there was a rush of steel as the anchor ran out. Cap-
tain Entwhistle came down from the bridge.
“I don’t see anything of your dodos yet,” he said,
“Do you think it would be wise to send out a landing
party, Mr. Euby?”
“Most certainly not,” said Ben. “You don’t know
what you’re up against yet. Wait till they come round.
You’ll have plenty to do.”
The captain shrugged. Evidently he was not at all
unwilling to match the Australian navy against any-
thing the dodos might do. “Very well. I’ll accept your
advice for the present, Mr. Euby. It is near evening
in any case. But if there is no sign of them in the
morning, I propose to land and look over the city.”
But the landing was never accomplished.
For, in the middle of the night, as Ben, Murray and
Gloria were seated in the chartroom of the ship, chat-
ting with the young lieutenant on duty there, there
came a quick patter of feet on the deck, and a shout
of “Light, ho!”
“There are your friends now. I’ll wager,” said the
lieutenant. “Now watch us go get ’em. If you want
to see the fun, better go up on the bridge. All we
do here is wrestle slide-rules.”
Hastily the three climbed the bridge, where a little
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
167
group of oflScera was clustered. Following the direc-
tion in which they were looking, they saw, just above
the buildings on the Jersey shore, what looked like a
tall electric sign, burning high in the air and some
distance away, with no visible means of support.
"What do you make of it?” asked Captain Entwhis-
tle, turning and thrusting a pair of glasses into Ben’s
hands. Through them he could read the letters.
Printed in capitals, though too small to be read from
the ship with the naked eye, he saw:
"SOFT MEN EXIT. HARD MEN ARE WORKERS
BELONGING. MUST RETURN. THIS MEANS
YOU.”
"Looks like a dumb joke by someone Who doesn’t
know English very well,” he opined, passing the glasses
to Gloria. “I don’t think those birds would figure that
out anyway.”
"Wait a minute, though,” said Gloria, as she read
the letters. "Remember they caught Dangerfield and
Farrelly and the rest. Maybe they taught them how
to speak.”
“Yes, but those two didn’t know anything about
‘soft men.’ It’s all crazy, like Tweedledum and Twee-
dledee. And what do they mean by ‘belonging’ ? None
of our gang thought up that bright remark.”
"Look, sir,” said one of the younger officers, “it’s
changing.”
Abruptly the lights were blotted out, to reappear,
amid a swimming of colors, nearer and larger.
"WARNING” they read this time, "FLY AWAY
ACCURSED PLACE.”
"What beats me,” said Ben, “is what makes that
light. I’ll bet a dollar against a dodo-feather it isn’t
electrical and fireworks wouldn’t hang in the air like
that. How do they do it?”
"Well, we’ll soon find out,” said the Captain, prac-
tically. "Mr. Sturgis, switch on searchlights three and
four and turn them on the source of that light.”
A few quick orders and two long beams of light
leaped out from the ship toward the source of the mys-
terious sky-writing — leaped, but not fast enough, for
even as the searchlights sought for their goal the
lights were extinguished and the long beams swung
across nothing but the empty heavens.
Gloria shivered. “I think I want to go away from
this place,” she said. "There’s too much we don’t
know about around here. We’ll be getting table-tap-
pings next.”
“Apparently someone wants us to clear out,” said
Captain Entwhistle cheerfully. “Mr. Sturgis, get
steam on three boilers ' and send the men to reserve
action stations. We may have something doing here
before morning.”
Orders were shouted, iron doors were slammed and
feet pattered in the interior of the warship. From
their station on the bridge Ben, Gloria and Murray
could see the long shafts of the turret guns awing up-
ward to their steepest angle, then turn toward the Jer-
sey shore. The Brisbane was preparing for emer-
gencies.
But there was to be no fight that night, though all
night long the weary sailors stood or slept beside their
guns. The dark skies remained inscrutable; the mys-
terious lights did not reappear.
At four o’clock. Captain Entwhistle had retired, re-
appearing at eight, fresh as though he had slept
through the whole night. The colonists, of course, did
not need sleep, but while the sailors stared at them,
submitted themselves to an electric meal from one of
the ship’s dynamos. Morning found them gathering
about the upper decks, eager for action, particularly
McAllister, who had spent most of the night engaged
in highly technical discussions of the Brisbane’s ar-
tillery with one of the turret-captains.
“What do you suggest?” asked the captain. "Shall
we land a party?”
“I hate to go without taking a iwke at those birds,”
said Ben, "but still I don’t think it would be safe — ”
"What’s the matter with that airplane?” asked
Gloria, pointing to the catapult between the funnels,
where a couple of blue-visaged sailors had taken the
covering from a seaplane and were giving it a morn-
ing bath.
The captain looked at Ben. "There may be some-
thing in that idea. What do you say to a scout around ?
I’ll let you or one of your people go as an observer.”
“Tickled to death,” Ben replied. “We never got be-
yond the upper part of the city ourselves. The dodos
were too dangerous. I’d like to find out what it’s all
about.”
“How about me?” offered Gloria.
“Nothing doing, kid. You get left this time. If
those birds get after us we may land in the bay with
a bump and I don’t want this party to lose its little
sunshine.”
"Up anchor!” came the command. "Revolutions for
ten knots speed . . . I’m going to head down the bay,”
he explained to the colonists. “If anything happens I
want to have sea-room, particularly if they try bomb-
ing us.”
Fifteen minutes later, with the Brisbane running
into the morning land-breeze in an ocean smooth as
glass, the catapult let go and Ben and the pilot — a lad
whose cheeks would have been rosy before the comet,
but were now a vivid blue — ^were shot into the air.
Beneath them the panorama of New York harbor
lay spread: more silent than it had been at any day
since Hendrick Hudson brought his high-pooped gal-
leys into it. As they rose, Ben could make out the line
of the river shining through the pearly haze like a
silver ribbon ; the towers of the city tilted, then swung
toward them as the aviator swept down nearer for an
examination. Everything seemed normal save at the
north and east, where a faint smoky mist still ling-
ered over the buildings they had occupied. Of birds,
or of other human occupation than their own, there
was no slightest sign.
A faint shout was borne to his ears above the roar
of the motor and he saw the pilot motioning toward
a set of earphones.
"What do you say, old chap?” asked the pilot when
he had clamped them on. "What direction shall we
explore?”
Ben glanced down and around. The cruiser seemed
to hang in the water, a tiny droplet of foam at her
bow the only sign she was still in motion. “Let’s go
up the Hudson,” he suggested. "They seemed to come
from that direction.”
"Check,” called the pilot, manipulating his controls.
The airplane climbed, swung and went on. They were
over Yonkers; Ben could see a river steamer at the
dock, where she had made her last halt.
“Throw in that switch ahead of you,” came through
the earphones. “The one marked RF. That’s the
radiophone for communicating with the ship. We may
need it.”
“O.K.,” said Ben . . . “Hello . . . Yes, this is
Ruby, in the airplane. Nothing to report. Every-
thing serene. We’re going to explore farther up the
river.”
In the distance the Catskills loomed before them,
blue and proud. Ben felt a touch on his back and
168 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
looked round. The pilot evidently wished to say some-
thing else. He cut in and heard, “What’s that off on
the left — right in the mountains? No, there.”
Following the indicated direction Ben saw some-
thing like a scar on the projecting hillside — not one
of the ancient rocks, but a fresh cut on the earth, as
though a wide spot had been denuded of vegetation.
“I don’t know,” be answered. “Never saw it before.
Shall we go see? . . . Hello, Brisbane. Ruby report-
ing. There is a mysterious clearing in the Catskills.
We are investigating.”
CHAPTER VIII
“The Dodos are Bombing
T he bare area seemed to run all down a long val-
ley and spread out as it rounded the crest of a
hill which hid what lay behind it from their
view. As they watched a grey speck that might have
been an ant at that height and distance, lumbered
slowly down the valley, and then Ben noticed a tiny
flicker of red light, so bright as to be clearly visible
even in the day, where the grey speck moved against
the hillside. A door seemed to open in the hillside;
focusing the glasses the aviator handed him, he c^ld
just make out a square, bulky object that trundled
forth. And then one — two~three — four — five of the
huge dodo-tetrapteryx birds shot out, poised for a
moment, and leaped into flight.
“Hello, Brisbane,” called Ben into the radiophone.
“Five dodos have taken off from the cutting in the
hills. I think they are after us. Better turn back
this way and get ready for trouble.”
The aviator, understanding without being warned,
had turned the plane. Ben swung round to look over
his shoulder. The dodos were already some yards in
the air; behind them the bulky object was running
slowly out of the opening in the hillside. It had the
appearance of a very long, flexible cannon. As he held
his glasses on it, it stopped, straightened out and the
muzzle was elevated in their direction.
“Dive!” he shouted suddenly into the voice-tube,
entirely on impulse. The airplane banked sharply and
seemed to drop straight down, and at the same instant
right through the spot where they had just passed
shot a beam of light so brilliant that it outshone the
morning sun. There was a roar louder than that of
the motor; the plane pitched and heaved in the dis-
turbed air, and the light-beam went off as suddenly
as it had snapped on.
“Didn’t I tell you those babies were poison?” he
remarked. “Boy, if that ever hit us!”
“What was it?” asked the aviator’s voice.
“Don’t know, but it was something terrible. Let’s
head for home and mamma. I don’t care about this.”
The plane reeled as the pilot handled' the controls.
Rrrr! said something and the light-beam shot out
again, just to one side this time. Out of the corner
of his eye Ben could see one of the birds — gaining
on them!
“How do you work this machine-gun?” he asked.
“Just squeeze the trigger. Look out! I’m going
to dive her again.”
With a roar, the light-beam let go a third time. Ben
saw the edge of it graze their right wing-tip; the
airplane swung wildly round and down, with the pilot
fighting for control; the earth seemed to rush up to
meet them, tumbling, topsy-turvy. Ben noted a warped
black spot where the beam had touched the wing-tip,
then surprisingly, they were flying along, level with
the surface of the Hudson beneath them, and hardly
a hundred feet up.
“That was close,” came the aAuator’s voice, shaky
with relief. “I thought they had us that time. Say,
that’s some ray they have.”
“It sure is one first-class heller,” agreed Ben. “Are
you far enough down to duck it now?”
“I think so, unless they can put it through the hills
or chase us with it. Do you suppose those dodos
thought that up themselves?”
“Can’t tell. They’re right on their toes, though.
Look!” He pointed up and back. Silhouetted against
the sky, they could see three of them, flying in for-
mation like airplanes. “Can we make it?”
“I’m giving the old bus all she’ll stand. The Bris-
bane will come toward us though. Wait till those guys
get going. They’ll find we can take a trick or two.”
Yonkers again. Ben looked anxiously over his
shoulder. The three silhouettes were a trifle nearer.
Would they do it? 125th Street and the long bridge
swung into view, then Riverside Drive and the pro-
cession of docks with the rusting liners lying beside
them. Ben waggled the machine-gun, tried to adjust
its sights and squeezed the trigger. A little line of
smoke-puffs leaped forth. Tracer bullets — but no-
where near the birds. On and on — Slower New York
— the Battery. Wham! The water beneath and be-
hind them boiled. Ben looked up. The birds were
above them, too high to be reached, dropping bombs.
“All right, old soaks," he muttered, “keep that up.
You’ll never hit us that way.”
Again something struck the water beneath them.
The airplane pitched and swerved as the pilot changed
course to disturb the aim of the bombers. In the dis-
tance the form of the cruiser could be seen now, head-
ing toward them. As he watched, there was a flash
from her foredeck. Up in the blue above them ap-
peared the white burst of a shell, then another and
another.
One of the dodos suddenly dived out of the forma-
tion, sweeping down more swiftly than Ben would have
believed possible. He swung the gun this way and
that, sending out streams of tracers, but the bird did
not appear to heed. Closer — closer — and then with a
crash something burst right behind him. The air-
plane gyrated; the water rushed upward. The end?
he thought, and wondered inconsequentially whether
his teeth would rust. The next moment the water
struck them.
W HEN Ben Ruby came to, he beheld a ceiling
which moved jerkily to and fro and stared
lazily at it, wondering what it was. Then memory
returned with a snap; he sat up and looked about him.
He was in one of those cubby-holes which are called
“cabins” on warships, and alone. Beneath him he
could hear the steady throb of the engines; at his side
was a small table with a wooden rack on it, in one
compartment of which stood a glass, whose contents,
on inspection, proved to be oil. He drank it, looked
at and felt of himself, and finding nothing wrong, got
out of the hammock and stepped to the door. A sea-
man was on guard in the corridor.
“Where iS' everybody?”
“On deck, sir. I hope you are feeling all right now
sir.”
“Top of the world, thanks. Is the aviator O.K.?”
“Yes, sir. This way.”
He ascended to the bridge, to be greeted riotously
by the assembled company. The Brisbane was steam-
ing steadily along in the open sea, with no speck of
land in sight and no traces of the giant birds.
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL 169
"What happened?" Ben asked. "Did you get rid
of ’em?"
“I think so. We shot down two and the rest made
off after trying to bomb us. What did you two find
out?”
Ben briefly described their experiences. “I thought
there was something wrong with one of your wing-
tips," said the captain, “but your plane sank so quickly
after being hit that we didn’t have time to examine
it. That light-ray cannon of theirs sounds serious.
Do you suppose the dodos managed it?”
“Can’t tell,” said Ben. “From what I could make
out through the glasses, it didn’t look like birds that
were handling it.”
“But what could it be?”
“Ask me! Delirium tremens, I guess. Nothing in
this world is like what it ought to be any more. Where
did those birds come from; how did we get this way,
all of us; who is it up there in the Catskills that don’t
like us? Answer me those and I’ll tell you who was
handling the gun.”
“Message, sir,” said a sailor, touching his cap, and
handing a folded paper. The captain read it, frowning.
“There you are — ” he extended the sheet to Ben.
“My government is recalling all ships. Our sister-ship
the Melbourne, has been attacked off San Francisco
and severely damaged by bomb-dropping dodos, and
they have made a mass descent on Sumatra. Gentle-
men, this has all the characteristics of a formal war,”
He strode off to give the necessary orders to hurry
the cruiser home, but Walter Beeville, who had joined
the group at the bridge, said under his breath:
“If those birds have enough intelligence to plan out
anything like that I’ll eat my hat.”
"If you were not before my eyes,” said Sir George
Graham Harris, president of the Australian Scientific
Commission, “as living proof of what you say, and if
our biological and metallurgical experts did not report
that your physiology is utterly beyond their compre-
hension, I do not know but that I would believe you
some cleverly constructed machines, actuated in some
way by radio. However, that is not the point ... I
have here a series of reports from different quarters
on such explorations as have been made since the ar-
rival of the comet and our recovery from its effects.
We are, it appears, confronted with a menace of con-
siderable seriousness in the form of these birds.
“In the light of your closer acquaintance with them
and with conditions generally in the devastated areas,
they may be more suggestive to you than to us.” He
stopped and ruffled over the papers piled beside him
at the big conference table. He was a kindly old gen-
tleman, whose white Van Dyke and pale blue lips con-
trasted oddly with the almost indigo tint of his visage
(before the comet it had been a rich wine-red, the
result of a lifelong devotion to brandy and soda).
Smiling round the table at his scientific colleagues and
at Ben, Murray, Gloria and Beeville, who occupied the
position of honor, he went on:
“I give you mainly excerpts . . . The first is from
the South African government. They have . . . hm,
hm . . . sent an aerial expedition northward, all lines
of communication appearing to be broken. At Nairobi,
they report for the first time, finding a town entirely
unoccupied and its inhabitants turned into cast-metal
statues . . . Addis Ababa the same . . . Wadi Hafa
likewise. Twenty miles north of Wadi Hafa they noted
the first sign of life — a bird of some kind at a con-
siderable distance to the west of them and flying par-
allel with them and very rapidly.”
The scientist looked up. “It would appear beyond
doubt that this bird belonged to the species we call
dodos and to which Dr. Beeville has given the excel-
lent scientific name, tetrapteryx ... As the expedi-
tion proceeded northward, they encountered more of
them; sometimes as many as four being in sight at
one time. At Alexandria, where they halted for sup-
plies, the dodos closed in. When the expedition took
the air again with the object of flying to Crete and
thence to Europe, these remarkable avians came very
close, apparently trying to turn the expedition back.
They reached Crete that afternoon, in spite of the
interference of the birds, but that night were actively
attacked on the ground. The phenomena that accom-
panied all other attacks were observed; the birds used
incendiary bombs of great intensity. One machine
was entirely destroyed with its aviators. The others,
since their object was exploration, at once took to the
air and returned,
“Any comments, gentlemen? No? Well the next is
the report of the Dutch ship Corlaer, which attempted
to reach Japan. She was permitted to proceed to
within a few miles of the islands, and then began to
receive light-warnings in the sky, such as Captain
Entwhistle reports. Unfortunately they were in Japa-
nese characters and there was no one aboard who could
read them. She put in at the port of Nagasaki and
sent out a landing party. It never returned; as in the
other cases the ship was bombed at night and only made
Sumatra with the greatest difficulty, one of the bombs
having fallen on the quarter-deck, wrecking the steer-
ing-gear and causing extensive internal damage . . .
“There are minor reports with which I will not
bother you. But the report of H. M. A. S. Melbourne
appears highly significant. She touched at several
South American ports. In the cities she reports find-
ing all life at a standstill, although at Iquique, the
landing party encountered some hill-Indians who had
suffered a bluing of the blood similar to ours, and who
proved distinctly unfriendly. They are reported as
engaged in looting the city and getting drunk on the
contents of the bodegas.
“North of Callao she found no signs of life until
she reached San Pedro Bay. There a man was ob-
served to be waving from the beach. The Melbourne
put in and launched a boat, but before it reached shore,
one of the birds made its appearance overhead and the
man disappeared into the trees and was not seen again.
From the ship he appeared to bo a mechanical man,
such as you. Shortly afterward, the Melbourne began
to see the dodos constantly, and at the region of San
Francisco, she saw one of the light signals. The Word-
ing of it was: ‘DEPART AWAY FAREWELL FOR-
EVER.’ ”
Gloria stirred and Sir George , looked at her with
mild eyes. “Nothing, sir. I was just thinking that
these dodos are uncommonly poetical. They told us to
fly from the accursed place.”
“Yes, yes . . . Naturally the Melbourne, not antici-
pating any trouble as the result of a refusal to obey
this absurd command, did not heed the warning, and
steamed into the bay. Like the other ships she was
attacked at night. One of the bombs fell on the fire-
control station and -wrecked it, bringing down the tri-
pod mast and fusing the top of the conning tower.
She got under way immediately and replied with all
guns, but before escaping number three turret was
struck by another bomb and all the men in the turret
were killed. The roof of the turret was driven in and
even the breeches of the guns melted . . . That, I
think, summarizes the reports we have. We have seen
170 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
a little of the birds, mostly at a distance, and they
appear to have carried off several individuals, espe-
cially in Sumatra. I am afraid that is all we can
offer.”
There was a moment’s silence.
"Well, what the material in the bombs is I can’t
say,” said Ben, “but they know all about projecting
it from guns in the form of a beam. I told you about
my experience in company with the aviator from the
Brisbane f”
"The eggs Hearts found, too,” said Gloria.
"Oh, yes. Dr. Beevllle can tell you about that.”
"Why, there’s nothing much to it,” said the scien-
tist. "One of our people found what appeared to be
a nest of these birds in a building. The nest was
built of soft cloths and contained large eggs, but when
the place was revisited the eggs had been removed.
... I may say that I have examined the remains of
one rather badly mangled specimen. The brain-case
is extraordinarily large — larger than I have ever seen
in any animal, and they appear to be of a high order
of Intelligence.
“On the other hand I should certainly put the use
and control of such a material as these bombs contain
beyond their powers. And the fact that the nest was
found in a building would indicate that the headquar-
ters in the Catskills were used by some other and
higher Intelligence which was separate from and per-
haps in control of these birds. Moreover, they do not
appear to wish to destroy us mechanical men, but to
carry us off, and the messages seen by the ships seem
to indicate that the intelligence behind these birds is
capable of reading and understanding English. I can-
not conceive that the birds themselves would be able
to do this.
"Further, there is the very strong evidence of the
gun which fired on Mr. Ruby. In every case where
these birds have attacked man, they have used bombs
of this material put up in portable form, although the
gun would have been much more effective. It would
have gone right through the Melbourne or the Bris-
bane like a red-hot poker through a board. From this
I argue that the birds are directed rather than direct-
ing, and that the directing intelligence is either too
indolent or too contemptuous of us to attack man ex-
cept through their agency. Finally, I deduce that we
are dealing with some powerful and as yet unknown
form of life. What it is or how it reached the earth,
I am not prepared to say.”
"Wunnerful,” said Gloria irreverently, and a smile
passed across the faces of the conferees.
"But what are the bombs made of and what makes
them tick?” asked Murray Lee.
"That is a question to which I would very much
like to know the answer,” said Sir George, stroking
his white beard. "Perhaps Mr. Nasmith, our chem-
ical member, will be good enough to give us something
on the point.”
"Not much,” said Nasmith, a lantern-jawed man
with black hair. "We made a chemical analysis of
the portions of the Melbourne which had been struck
by the bombs, and all we can say is that it gave a most
extraordinary result. These portions were originally
made of Krupp armor steel, as you know. Our analy-
sis showed the presence of a long series of chemical
elements, including even gold and thorium, most of
them in minute quantities. Titanium appeared to be
the leading constituent after iron.”
"Then,” said Sir George, "the situation appears to
be this. We don’t know what the dodos are or what
is behind them, but they have possession of a large
part of the world to which they are disposed to forbid
us any access. They have powerful weapons and the
intelligence to use them, and they appear to be un-
friendly. I suggest that the sense of this meeting is
that the government should take immediate measures
of investigation and if necessary, of hostility.”
“Swell,” said Gloria, “only you didn’t go half far
enough. We’ve been there and you haven’t. You want
to get the best guns you’ve got and go for them right
away.”
There was a murmur of approval. As Sir George
rose to put the question to a vote there came a knock
at the door. Heads were turned to greet a young man
who hurried to the president and whlsi>ered '’some-
thing. Sir George turned to the meeting with a star-
tled face.
"Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, "the dodos are
bombing Canberra, the capital of Australia, and are
being engaged by the Australian air force.”
CHAPTER IX
The Opening of the Conflict
(5<"V’M GLAD,” said Gloria to Murray Lee, as they
I leaned against the rail of the steamer Paramatta
JL in their new American Army uniforms, “that
they’re going to attack these things in the old U. S.
I’d hate like anything to think we last Americans were
shoved out of our country by a lot of chickens.”
Murray glanced around him. In every direction the
long lines of the convoy stretched out, big liners loaded
to the funnels with men, guns, tanks and ammunition.
On the fringes of the troopships the sleek grey sides
of the cruisers and destroyers that protected them were
visible, and overhead there soared an armada of fast
airplanes — ^no mere observation machines, or peaceful
explorers like the South Africans, but fierce, deadly
fighting planes, rocket-powered, which could step along
at four miles a minute and climb, dive and maneuver
better than a dodo.
He nodded. “You said something, sister. Say won’t
it be great to take a whack at them under the Stars and
Stripes. I’m glad they let us do it, even if there are
only fourteen of us.”
In the four months since the conference with the
Australian Scientific Committee it had been amply dem-
onstrated to the three remaining governments of the
world that there was not room for both man and dodos
on the same planet. A carefully-worked out campaign
had evidently been set in operation by whatever central
intelligence led the four-winged birds with the object of
wiping human life from the earth. The bombing of
Canberra was merely the first blow.
While Australia was arming and organizing to meet
the menace the second blow fell — on Sourabaya, the
great metropolis of Java, which was wiped out in a
single night. At this evidence of the hostile intentions
of the dodos radio apparatus began to tap in Australia,
in the Dutch colonies and in South Africa; old guns
forgotten since the last great war, were wheeled out;
the factories began to turn out fighting airplanes and
the young men drilled in the parks.
When, late in November, a flock of twenty-five dodos
was observed over north Australia, headed for Sydney,
the forces of the defence were on their guard. Long
before the birds reached the town they were met by a
big squadron of rocket-powered fighting planes and in a
desperate battle over the desert, with claw and beak
and bomb against machine-gun, were shot down to the
last bird. With that the attacks had suddenly ceased,
and the federated governments, convinced that it was
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
but the calm before a greater storm, had gathered their
strength for a trial of arms.
It was realized that whatever lay behind this attempt
to conquer all there was left of the old earth must bo in
some way due to the coming of the great comet and
must center somewhere in America, where the comet
had struck. So for the first time the race of man be-
gan to learn what international cooperation meant. Dele-
gates from the three surviving governments met in con-
ference at Perth with Ben Ruby accorded a place as the
representative of the United States. The decision of
the conference was to mobilize every man and weapon
to attack the birds in America and exterminate them
there if possible; if impossible to do this, then to keep
them so occupied at home that they would be unable to
deliver any counter-attack.
There was plenty of shipping to carry an army far
larger than the federated governments could mobilize:
the main weakness of the expedition lay in the lack of
naval protection, for the great navies of the world had
perished when the northern hemisphere passed under
•the influence of the comet. It was sought to make up
for this deficiency by a vast cloud of airplanes, fiying
from the decks of many merchant ships, converted into
aircraft carriers, though some of the new rocket-planes
were powerful enough to cruise around the world under
their own i>ower. And so, on this March morning in
1947 the whole vast armada was crossing the Atlantic
toward the United States. In view of the fact that
the headquarters of the dodos seemed to be somewhere
in the Catskills, it had been decided to land in New
Jersey, form a base there and work northward.
In the preliminary training for the coming conflict
the metal Americans had played an important part.
Their construction made them impossible as aviators,
which they would have preferred. But quite early it
was discovered that they made ideal operators for tanks.
The oil fumes and the lack of air did not in the least
affect beings to whom breathing had become unimpor-
tant, and the oil was actually a benefit.
As a result the little American army had been com-
posed of fourteen tanks of a special type, fitted at the
direction of the military experts, with all the latest and
best in scientific devices. They were given extra-heavy
armor, fitted in two thicknesses, with a chamber be-
tween, as a protection against the light-bombs, and each
tank, intended to be handled by a single operator, was
provided with one heavy gun, so arranged that it could
be used against aerial attack.
A stir of motion was visible at the head of the con-
voy. A destroyer dashed past the Paramatta,
smoke pouring from her funnels, the white bow-wave
rising as high as her bridge as she put on full speed.
From the airplane carrier just behind them in the line,
one, two, three flights of fighters swung off, circled
a moment to gain altitude and then whirled off to the
north and west.
“What is it?” asked Gloria.
A sailor touched his cap. “Sighted a dodo, I believe,
miss,” he said.
“Oh, boy,” said Gloria, “here we go. What would you
give to be in one of those planes?”
They craned their necks eagerly, but nothing was vis-
ible except a few flecks in the sky that might be dodos
or might equally well be airplanes. Faint and far, a
rattle of machine-guns drifted down; there was a flash
of intense light, like the reflection in a far-distant mir-
ror, and the machine-guns ceased. A few moments later
the airplanes came winging back to their mother ship.
171
A sailor on her deck began to swing his arms in the
curious semaphore language of the sea.
“What happened?” asked Gloria of the man by their
side.
“I’m trying to make out, miss. One dodo, he says,
carrying a bomb — hit — by — machine-gun . . . Oh, the
bomb went off in the dodo’s claws and blew him all to
pieces.”
The echo of a cheer came across the water from the
other ships. The first brush had gone in favor of the
race of man I
That night dodos announced their presence by a few
bombs dropped tentatively among the ships, but did no
damage, being so hurried and harried by the airmen,
and by morning the dream-towers of Atlantic City,
flecked with the early morning sun, rose out of the west.
Far in the distance the aviators of the expedition had
spied more of the birds, but after the first day’s en-
counter with the airplanes they kept a healthy distance,
apparently contented to observe what they could.
As ship after ship swung in toward the piers and dis-
charged its cargo of men, guns and munitions, the birds
became bolder, as though to inspect what was going on.
But the Australian aviators attacked them fiercely, driv-
ing them back at every attempt to pierce the aerial
cordon, and when night came on, nearly a third of the
force had been landed and quartered in parts of the one-
time pleasure city.
Covered by the darkness a few dodos came down to
drop bombs that night. They met with poor success.
Delicate listening apparatus, intended originally to pick
up the sound of approaching enemy airplanes had been
one of the first things landed. The whir of the birds’
wings was plainly audible, and before they had realized
that man had a weapon to meet their night attacks half
a dozen of them had been caught in the bursts of anti-
aircraft guns and more had been met and shot down by
the night-patrolling airmen.
The next morning saw the unloading beginning anew,
while the emptied transports were taken around into
Delaware Bay, Fortunately, the weather continued un-
usually fine for late March, bright with sunshine, giving
the dodos no opportunity to attack behind the cover of
clouds. There was just enough cold in the air to make
the Australians and South Africans lively, though the
Americans found the temperature caused the oil to move
sluggishly in their metallic joints.
At daybreak the whole American unit had been
pushed out to the railroad line at Greenwood with the
advance guard of tanks, and finding no opposition they
continued on to Farmington, where there was an airport
that would serve for the leading squadrons of planes.
“Do you know,” said Ben to Murray, “I wish those
dodos would show a little more pep. Fighting them is
no cinch. We’re a little ahead of the game now, but it’s
largely because they’ve let us alone and haven’t brought
up any of those light-beam guns.”
“Maybe we’ve got ’em on the run,” replied Murray.
“You can’t tell when anyone will develop a yellow streak,
you know.”
“Yes, but we’ve seen enough of these babies to know
they haven’t got a yellotv streak a millimeter wide in
their whole make-up. Yet here they let us do just about
as we please. Makes me think they’re just laying for
us, and when they get us where they want us — zowie !”
“Mebbe so, mebbe so,” replied Murray. “Beeville still
thinks it isn’t the birds at all; that they’ve got a big
boss somewhere running the whole works and till we
find out what’s behind it we’re fighting in the dark.
Well, they’ll unload the rest of the army tomorrow and
then we’ll get down to cases.”
One of the things would swing its
trunk around and discharge a light-
bolt at a house or other object.
range guns on trucks, preparatory to covering the ad-
vance. All along the route was bustle and hurry ; camp
kitchens rumbled along, harassed officers galloped up
and down the lines on their horses (now, like their mas-
ters with a strange bluish cast of skin) and messengers
rushed to and fro on popping motorcycles.
Out with the advance the American division of four-
teen tanks rolled along. The dodos seemed to have com-
pletely disappeared, even the scouting aviators, far
ahead, reporting no sign of them. The army was suc-
ceeding in establishing itself on American soil.
But around noon a “stop” signal flashed on the con-
trol boards of the tanks. They halted at the crest of
a little rise and climbed out to look around.
“What is it?” asked someone.
“Perhaps gentlemanly general wishes to disport in
surf,” suggested Yoshio, with his flashing, steel-toothed
smile, “and proceeding is retained without presence.”
“Perhaps,” said Gloria, “but I’ll bet a dollar to a
handful of blue kangaroos that the dodos are getting
in their licks somewhere.”
“Well, we’ll soon know,” said Murray Lee. “Here
comes a dispatch rider.”
The man on the motorcycle dashed up, saluted. “Gen-
eral Ruby?” he inquired, and handed the dispatch to
Ben. The latter read it, then motioned the others about
him.
“Well, here it is, folks,” he said, “Listen to this —
'General Grierson to General Ruby. Our flank guard
was heavily attacked at Atsion this morning. The Third
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
173
Brigade of the Fourteenth Division has suffered heavy
lose and has been forced back to Chew Road. We are
bringing up heavy artillery. The enemy appear to be
using large numbers of light-ray guns. Advance guard
is recalled to Waterford in support of our left flank.’ ”
“Oh — oh," said somebody.
"I knew they'd start giving us hell sooner or later,”
remarked Murray Lee as he climbed into his tank.
At Waterford there was ordered confusion when
they arrived. Just outside the town a long line of
infantrymen were plying pick and shovel in the forma-
tion of a system of trenches. Machine-gun units were
installing themselves In stone or brick buildings and
constructing barricades around their weapons; line
after line of tanks had wheeled into position under cover
of woods or in the streets of the town, the little whip-
pets out in front, fast cruiser-tanks behind them and
the lumbering battle-tanks with their six-inch guns,
farther back.
Artillery was everywhere, mostly in little pits over
which the gunners were spreading green strips of
camouflage. As the American tanks rolled up, a battery
of eight-inch howitzers behind a railroad embankment
at the west end of the town was firing slowly and with
an air of great solemnity at some target in the in-
visible distance, the angle of their muzzles showing that
they were using the extreme range. A couple of air-
planes hummed overhead. But of dead or wounded, of
dodos or any other enemy there was no sign. It might
have been a parade-war, an elaborately realistic imita-
tion of the real thing for the movies.
Guides directed the Americans to a post down the line
toward Chew Road. “What’s the news?” asked Ben of
an officer whose red tabs showed he belonged to the staff.
“They hit the right wing at Atsion,” replied the offi-
cer. “Just what happened, I’m not sure. Somebody
said they had a lot of those light-ray guns and they
just crumpled up our flank like that.” He slapped his
hands together to show the degree of crumpling the
right flank had endured. "We lost about fifteen hun-
dred men in fifteen minutes. Tanka, too. But I think
we’re stopping them now.”
“Any dodos?” asked Ben.
"Just a few. The airplanes shot down a flock of
seven just before the battle and after that they kept
away . . . What is it? General Witherington wants me?
Oh, all right. I’ll come. Excuse me, sir,” and the staff
officer was off.
Most of the afternoon was spent in an interminable
period of waiting and watching the laboring infantry
sink themselves into the ground. About four o’clock a
fine, cold drizzle began to fall. The Americans sought
the shelter of their tanks, and about the same time their
radiophones flashed the order to move up, toward the
north and east through a barren pasture with a few
trees in it, to the crest of a low hill. It was already
nearly dark; the tanks bumped unevenly over the stony
ground, their drivers following each other by the black
silhouettes in the gloom. Off to the right a battery sud-
denly woke to a fever of activity, then as rapidly be-
came silent and in the intervals of silence between the
motor-sounds the Americans could catch the faint rat-
tat of machine-guns in the heavens above. Evidently
dodos were abroad in the gloom.
At the crest of the hill they could see across a flat
valley in the direction of Chew Road. Something seemed
to be burning behind the next rise; a ruddy glare lit
the clouds. Down the line guns began to growl again,
and the earth trembled gently with the sound of an ex-
plosion somewhere in the rear. Murray Lee, sitting
alone at the controls of his tank. So this was war!
There were trees along their ridge, and looking
through the side peep-hole of his tank Murray could
make out the vague forms of a line of whippets among
them, waiting, like themselves, for the order to ad-
vance. Ho wondered what the enemy were like; evi-
dently not all dodos, since so many tanks had been
pushed up to the front. This argued a man or animal
that ran along the ground. The dodos seemed to spend
most of their time in the air. . .
He was recalled from his meditations by the ringing
of the attention bell and the radiophone began to speak
rapidly :
“American tank division — enemy tanks reported ap-
proaching. Detain them as long as possible and then
retire. Your machines are not to be sacrificed: Radio
your irositions with reference to Clark Creek as you
retire for guidance of artillery registering on enemy
tanks. There — ”
The voice broke off in mid-sentence. So the dodos
had tanks! Murray Lee snapped in his controls and
glanced forward. Surely in the gloom along that dis-
tant ridge there was a darker spot — next to the house —
something.
Suddenly, with a roar like a thousand thunders, a bolt
of sheer light seemed to leap from the dark shape on
the opposite hill, straight toward the trees where Mur-
ray had noticed the whippets. He saw one of the trees
leap into vivid flame from root to branch as the beam
struck it ; saw a whippet, sharply outlined in the fierce
glow, its front armor-plate caving ; then its ammunition
blew up in a shower of sparks, and he was frantically
busy with his own controls and gun.
CHAPTER X
Hopelessness
A LL ALONG the line of the American tanks the
guns flamed; flame-streaked fountains of dirt
X iV. leaped up around the dark shape on the opposite
hill and a burst of fire came from the farmhouse beside
it as a misdirected shell struck it somewhere.
The beam from the unknown enemy snapped off as
suddenly as it had come on, leaving, like lightning, an
aching of the eyes behind it. Murray Lee swung his
tank round, making for the reverse slope of the hill to
avoid the light-beam. Crack ! The beam came on again
— right overhead this time. It flashed through the tree-
tops leaving a trail of fire. He heard a tom branch
bang on the roof of his tank, manipulated the gun to
fire at the source of the beam and discovered that the
magazine was empty. As he bent to snap on the auto-
matic shell-feeding device, a searchlight from some-
where lashed out toward the black shape that opposed
them, then went off. In the second’s glimpse it afforded
the enemy appeared as a huge, polished, fish-shaped ob-
ject, its mirror-like sides unscarred by the bombard-
ment it had passed through, its prow bearing a long,
prehensible snout — apparently the source of the light-
beam.
Suddenly a shell screamed overhead and the whole
scene leaped into dazzling illumination as it burst just
between the enemy tanks and their own. It must be a
shell from the dodos! The federated armies had no
shells that dissolved into burning light like that. Then
another and another, a whole chorus of shells, falling
in the village behind them. Murray had a better look
at their opponent in the light. It seemed to lie flush
with the ground; there was no visible means of either
support or propulsion. It was all of twenty feet in
diameter, widest near the head, tapering backward. The
questing snout swung to and fro, fixed its position and
discharged another of those lightning-bolts. Off to the
174
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
right came the answering crash as it caved in the armor
of another of the luckless whippets. He aimed his gun
carefully at the base of the snout and pulled the trigger;
on the aide of the monster there appeared a flash of
flame as the shell exploded, then a bright smear of metal
— a direct hit, and not the slightest damage!
Ben Ruby’s voice came through the radiophone, cool
and masterful. “Pull out, folks, our guns are no good
against that baby. I’m cutting off ; radio positions back
to the heavy artillery. Put the railroad guns on.’’
Murray glanced through the side peep-hole again —
one, two, three, four, five — all the American tanks
seemed undamaged. The monster had confined its at-
tention to the whippets, apparently imagining they were
doing the shooting. He pulled his throttle back, shot
the speed up, rumbling down the hill, toward the vil-
lage. As he looked back, darkness had closed in; the
brow of the hill, its rows of trees torn and broken by
the light-beam stood between him and the enemy. Be-
fore him amid the flaring light of the enemy shells was
a stir of movement, the troops seemed to be pulling out
also.
The tanks rumbled through the streets of Waterford
and came to a halt on a corner behind a stone church
which held three machine-gun nests. Murray could see
one of the gunners making some adjustment by the light
of a pocket torch and a wave of’pity for the brave man
whose weapon was as useless as a stick swept over him.
A messenger dashed down the street, delivered his
missive to someone, and out of the shadows a file of
infantry suddenly popped up and began to stream back,
getting out of range. Then, surrounded by bursts of
artillery fire, illumined by the glare of half a dozen
searchlights .that flickered restlessly on and off, the
strange thing came over the brow of the hill.
It halted for a moment, its snout moving about un-
easily as though it were smelling out the way, and as it
did so, it was joined by a second. Neither of them
seemed to be in the least disturbed by the shells all the
way from light artillery to six-inch, that were bursting
about them, filling the air with singing fragments. For
a moment they stood at ease, then the left-hand one,
the one that had led the advance, pointed its snout at
the village and discharged one of its flaming bolts. It
struck squarely in the center of an old brick house,
whose cellar had been turned into a machine-gun nest.
With a roar, the building collapsed, a bright flicker of
flames springing out of the ruins. As though it were a
signal every machine-gun, every rifle in the village op-
ened fire on the impassive shapes at the crest of the
hill. The uproar was terrific; even in his steel cage
Murray could hardly hear himself think.
The shining monster paid no more attention to it than
to the rain. One of them slid gently forward a few
yards, turned its trunk toward the spouting trenches,
and in short bursts, loosed five quick bolts ; there were
as many spurts of flame, a few puffs of earth and the
trenches became silent, save for one agonized cry, “First
aid, for God’s sake!’’
Ben Ruby’s voice came through the microphone. “Re-
treat everybody. Atlantic City if you can make it.’’
W ITH a great, round fear gripping at his heart,
Murray Lee threw In the clutch of his machine
and headed in the direction he remembered as that of
the main road through the town toward Atlantic City.
The night had become inky-black; the town was in a
valley and the shadow of trees and houses made the
darkness even more Stygian. Only by an occasional
match or flashlight glare could the way seen, but such
light as there was showed the road already filled with
fugitives. Some of them were helmetless, gunless, men
in the last extremity of terror, running anywhere to
escape from they knew not what.
But through the rout there plowed a little company
of infantry, revealed in a shell-burst, keeping tight
ranks as though at drill, officers at the head, not flying,
but retreating from a lost battle with good heart and
confidence, ready to fight again the next day. The danc-
ing beam of a searchlight picked them out for a mo-
ment; Murray Lee looked at them and the fear died
within him. He slowed up his machine, ran it off the
road and out to the left where there seemed to be a
clearing that opened in the direction of the town. After
all, he could at least observe the progress of the mon-
sters and report on them.
He was astonished to find that he had come nearly a
mile from the center of the disturbance. Down there,
the glittering monsters, still brightly illumined by
searchlight and flare, seemed to be standing still amid
the outer houses of the town, perhaps examining the
trench system the Australians had dug that afternoon.
The gunfire on them had ceased. From time to time one
of the things, perhaps annoyed at the pointlessness of
what it saw, would swing its trunk around and dis-
charge a light-bolt at house, barn or other object. The
object promptly caved in, and if it were wood, began to
burn. A little train of the blazing remains of buildings
marked the progress of the shining giants, and threw
a weird red light over the scene.
Now that he could see them clearly, Murray noted
that they were all of fifty or sixty feet long. Their
polished sides seemed one huge mirror, bright as glass,
and a phosphorescent glow hung about their tails. Along
either side was a slender projection like the bilge-keel
of a ship, terminating about three quarters of the way
along, and with a small dot of the phosphorescence at
its tip. They seemed machines rather than animate ob-
jects. Murray wondered whether they were, or (remem-
bering his own evolution into a metal man) whether
they were actually metal creatures of some unheard-of
breed.
As he watched, a battery out beyond the town that
had somehow gotten left behind, opened fire. He could
see the red fiash-flash-flash of the guns as they spoke;
hear the explosions of the shells as they rent the ground
around the giants. One of them swung impassively to-
ward the battery ; there were three quick stabs of living
flame, and the guns ceased firing. Murray Lee shud-
dered — ^were all man’s resources, was all of man, to dis-
appear from the earth ? All his high hopes and aspira-
tions, all the centuries of bitter struggle toward culture
to be wiped out by these impervious beasts?
He was recalled from his dream by the flash of light
at his control board and a voice from the radiophone
“ ... to all units,’’ came the message. “Railroad bat-
tery 14 about to fire on enemy tanks in Waterford.
Request observation for corrections . . . General Stan-
hope to all units. Railroad battery 14, twelve-inch guns,
about to fire on enemy tanks in Waterford. Request
observation for correction. . .’’
"Lieut. Lee, American Tank Corps, to (Jeneral Stan-
hope,’’ he called into the phone. "Go ahead vsdth railroad
battery 14. Am observing fire from east of town.’’
Even before he had finished speaking there was a
dull rumble in the air and a tremendous heave of earth
behind and to one side of the shining enemy, not two
hundred yards away. “Lieut. Lee to railroad battery
14,’’ he called, delightedly, “two hundred yards over, ten
yards right.’’ Berrrroum! Another of the twelve-inch
shells fell somewhere ahead of the giants in the village.
As Murray shouted the correction one of the metal crea-
176
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
turea lifted its snout toward the source of the explosion
curiously and as if it had not quite understood its mean-
ing, fired a light-beam at it. Another shell fell, just to
one side. A wild hope surging in him, he called the
corrections — these were heavier guns than any that had
yet taken a hand.
“Lieut. Lee, American Tank Corps, to railroad bat-
tery 14 — Suggest you use armor-piercing shell. Enemy
tanks appear to be armored,” he called and had the com-
forting reply. “Check, Lieut. Lee. We are using armor-
piercers.” Slam I Another of the twelve-inch shells
struck, not ten yards behind the enemy. The ground
around them rocked; one of them turned as though to
examine the burst, the other lifted its snout skyward
and released a long, thin beam of blue light, not in the
least like the light-ray. It did not seem to occur to
either of them that these shells might be dangerous.
They seemed merely interested.
And then — the breathless watchers in the thickets
around the doomed town saw a huge red explosion, a
great flower of flame that leaped to the heavens, covered
with a cloud of thick smoke, pink in the light of the
burning houses, and as it cleared away, there lay one
of the monsters on its side, gaping and rent, the mir-
rored surface scarred across, the phosphorescent glow
extinguished, the prehensile snout drooping lifelessly,
Murray Lee was conscious of whooping wildly, of danc-
ing out of his tank and joining someone else in an em-
brace of delight. They were not invincible then. They
could be hurt — Skilled!
“Hooray!” he cried, “Hooray!”
“That and twelve times over,” said his companion.
The phrase struck him as familiar; for the first time
he looked at his fellow celebrant. It was Gloria.
“Why, where in the world did you come from?” he
asked.
“Where did you? I’ve been here all the time, ever
since Ben ordered us home. Didn’t think I’d run out
on all the fun, did you? Are those things alive?”
“How do I know? They look it but you never can tell
with all the junk that comet left around the earth. They
might be just some new kind of tank full of dodos.”
“Yeh, but — ” The buzzing roar of one of the light-
rays crashing into a clump of trees not a hundred yards
away, recalled them to themselves. Gloria looked up,
startled. The other monster was moving slowly for-
ward, systematically searching the hillside with its
weapon.
“Say, boy friend,” she said, “I think it’s time to go
away from here. See you at high mass.”
B ut the conference at headquarters in Hammonton
that night was anything but cheerful.
“It comes to this, then,” said General Grierson, the
commander-in-chief of the expedition. “We have noth-
ing that is effective against these dodo tanks but the
twelve-inch railroad artillery, using armor-piercing shell
and securing a direct hit. Our infantry is worse than
useless; the tanka are useless, the artillery cannot get
through the armor of these things, although it damages
the enemy artillery in the back areas.”
Ben Ruby rubbed a metal chin. “Well, that isn’t quite
all, sir. One of the American tanks was hit and came
through — damaged I will admit. The lightning, or light-
ray these dodos threw, penetrated the outer skin but
not the inner. We could build more tanka of this type,”
General Grierson drummed on the table. “And arm
them with what? You couldn’t mount a twelve-inch
gun in a tank if you wanted to, and we haven’t any
twelve-inch guns to spare.”
One of the staff men looked up. “Has airplane bomb-
ing been tried on these-— things. It seems to me that
a one or two-thousand pound bomb would be as effec-
tive as a twelve-inch shell.”
“That was tried this afternoon,” said the head of the
air service, with an expression of pain. “The 138th
bombing squadron attacked a group of these ^nks. Un-
fortunately, the tanks kept within range of their light-
ray artillery and the entire squadron was shot down.”
“Mmm,” said the staff man. “Let’s add up the in-
formation we have secured so far and see where it leads.
Now first they have a gun which shoots a ray which is
effective either all along its length or when put up in
packages like a shell, and is rather like a bolt of light-
ning in its effect. Any deductions from that?”
“Might be electrical,” said someone.
“Also might not,” countered Walter Beeville. “Re-
member the Melbourne’s turret. No electrical discharge
would produce chemical changes like that in Krupp
steel.”
“Second,” said the officer, “they appear to have three
main types of fighting machines or individuals. First,
there are the dodos themselves. We know all about them,
and our airplanes can beat them. Good . . . Second, there
is their artillery — a large type that throws a beam of
this emanation and a smaller type which throws it in
the form of shells. Thirdly, there are these — tanks,
which may themselves be the individuals we are fight-
ing. They are capable of projecting these discharges
to a short distance — something over four thousand
yards, and apparently do not have the power of pro-
jecting it in a prolonged beam, like their artillery. They
are about fifty feet long, fish-shaped, heavily armored
and have some unknown method of propulsion. Check
me if I’m wrong at any point.”
“The projection of these lightning-rays would seem
to indicate they are machines,” offered General Grierson
hopefully.
“Not on your life,” said Beeville, “think of the elec-
tric eel.”
“As I was saying,” said the staff man, “our chief
defect seems a lack of information, and — ”
General Grierson brought his fist down on the table.
“Gentlemen!” he said. “This discussion is leading us
nowhere. It’s all very well to argue about the possibili-
ties of man or machine in time of peace and at home,
but we are facing one of the greatest dangers the earth
has ever experienced, and must take immediate meas-
ures. Unless someone has something more fruitful to
develop than this conference has provided thus far, I
shall be forced to order the re-embarkation of what re-
mains of the army and sail for home. My duty is to the
citizens of the federated governments, and I cannot use-
lessly sacrifice more lives. Our supply of railroad
artillery is utterly inadequate to withstand the numbers
of our adversaries. Has anyone anything to offer?”
There was a silence around the conference table, a
silence pregnant with a heavy sense of defeat, for no
one of them but could see the General was right.
But at that moment there came a tap at the door.
“Come,” called General Grierson. An apologetic under-
officer entered. “I beg your pardon, sir, but one of the
iron Americans is here and insists that he has some-
thing of vital importance for the General. He will not
go away without seeing you.”
“All right. Bring him in.”
There stepped into the room another of the mechan-
ical Americans, but a man neither Ben Ruby nor Bee-
ville had ever seen before. A stiff wire brush of mous-
tache stood out over his mouth ; he wore no clothes but a
kind of loin-cloth made, apparently, of a sheet. The
metal plates of his powerful body glittered in the lamp-
176
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
light as he stepped forward. “General Grierson?” he
inquired, looking from one face to another.
"I am General Grierson.”
“I’m Lieutenant Herbert Sherman of the U. S. Army
Air Service. I have just escaped from the Laasans and
came to offer you my services. I imagine your techni-
cal men might wish to know how they operate their
machines and what would be effective against them,
and I think I can tell you.”
CHAPTER XI
Capture
H erbert SHERMAN had wakened with a vague
sense of something wrong and lay back in his
. seat for a moment, trying to remember. Every-
thing seemed going quietly, the machine running with
subdued efficiency ... It came to him with a jerk —
he could not hear the motor. With that subconscious
concentration of the flying man on his ship, he glanced
at the Instrument board first, and taking in the astonish-
ing information that both the altimeter and the air-
speed meter registered zero, he looked over the side.
His vision met the familiar dentilated line of the build-
ings surrounding the Jackson Heights airport, with a
tree plastered greenly against one of them. Queer.
His sense of memory began to return. There was the
night-mall flight from Cleveland ; the spot of light ahead
that grew larger and larger like the most enormous of
shooting stars, the sensation of sleepiness ... He re-
membered setting the controls to ride out the short re-
mainder of the journey with the automatic pilot on the
Jackson Heights’ radio beam, since he was clearly not
going to make Montauk. But what came after that?
Then another oddity struck his attention. He re-
called very clearly that he had been flying over the white
landscape of winter — ^but now there was a tree in full
leaf. Something was wrong. He clambered hastily
from the cockpit.
As he swung himself over the side, his eye caught
the glint of an unfamiliar high-light on the back of his
hand and with the same stupefaction that Murray Lee
was contemplating the same phenomenon several miles
away, he perceived that instead of a flesh-and-blood
member he had somehow acquired an iron hand. The
other one was the same — and the arm — and the section
of stomach which presently appeared when he tore loose
his shirt to look at It.
The various possibilities that might account for it
raced through hie mind, each foundering on some funda-
mental difficulty. Practical joke — imagination — insan-
ity — what else? Obviously some time had elapsed. But
how about the ground staff of the airport? He shouted.
No answer.
Muttering a few swears to himself he trudged across
the flying field, noting that it was grown up with daisies
and far from newly rolled, to the hangars. He shouted
again. No answer. No one visible. He pounded at the
door, then tried it. It was unlocked. Inside someone
sat tilted back in a chair against the wall, a cap pulled
over his face. Sherman walked over to the sleeper,
favoring him with a vigorous shake and the word,
“Hey!”
To his surprise the stranger tilted sharply over to one
side and went to the floor with a bang, remaining in the
position he had assumed. Sherman, the thought of
murder jumping in his head, bent over, tugging at the
cap. The man was as metallic as himself, but of a
different kind — a solid statue cast in what seemed to be
bronze.
“For Heaven’s sake!” said Herbert Sherman to him-
self and the world at large.
There seemed to be nothing in particular he could do
about It; the man, if he had ever been a man, and was
not part of some elaborate scheme of flummery fixed up
for his benefit, was beyond human aid. However there
was one way in which all difficulties could be solved.
The sun was high and the town lay outside the door.
... He spent a good deal of the day wandering about
Jackson Heights, contemplating such specimens of hu-
manity as remained in the streets, fixed in the various
ungraceful and unattractive attitudes of life. He had
always been a solitary and philosophical soul, and he
felt neither loneliness nor overwhelming curiosity as to
the nature of the catastrophe which had stopped the
wheels of civilization. He preferred to meditate on the
vanity of human affairs and to enjoy a sense of triumph
over the ordinary run of bustling mortals who had al-
ways somewhat irritated him.
In justice to Herbert Sherman It should be remarked
that he felt no trepidation as to the outcome of this
celestial joke on the inhabitants of the world. Beside
being an aviator he was a competent mechanic, and he
proved the ease with which he could control his new
physique by sitting down in a restaurant next to the
bronze model of a sleepy cat, removing one shoe and
sock and proceeding to take out and then replace the
cunningly concealed finger-nut which held his ankle in
position, marvelling at how any chemical or other
change could have produced a threaded bolt as an in-
tegral part of the human anatomy.
Toward evening, he returned to the flying field and
examined his machine. One wing showed the effect of
weathering, but it was an all-metal Roamer of the latest
model and it had withstood the ordeal well. The gaso-
line gauge showed an empty tank, but it was no great
task to get more from the big underground tanks at the
field. Oil lines and radiators seemed all tight and when
he swung the propeller, the motor purred for him like
a cat.
With a kind of secret satisfaction gurgling within
him Herbert Sherman taxied across the field, put the
machine into a climb, and went forth to have a look at
New York.
He thought he could see smoke over central Manhat-
tan and swung the Roamer in that direction. The dis-
turbance seemed to be located at the old Metropolitan
Opera House which, as he approached it, seemed to have
b^n burning, but had now sunk to a pile of glowing
embers. The fire argued human presence of some kind.
He took more height and looked down. Times Square
held a good many diminutive dots, but they didn’t seem
to be moving.
H e swung over to examine the downtown section.
All quiet. When he returned he saw a car dodg-
ing across Forty-Second Street and realizing that he
could find human companionship whenever he needed it,
which he did not at present, he returned to the flying
field.
At this point It occurred to him to be hungry. Reason-
ing the matter out in the light of his mechanical experi-
ence, he drank a pint or more of lubricating oil and
searched for a place to spend the night. Not being
sleepy he raided a drug store where books were sold,
for as much of its stock as he could use, and arranging
one of the flares at the field in a position convenient for
reading, he settled down for the night. In the course of
it he twice tried smoking and found that his new make-
up had ruined his taste for tobacco.
With the first streaks of day he was afoot again, go-
ing over the Roamer wfth a fine-toothed comb, since he
had no mechanic to do it for him, tuning her up for a
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
long flight. He had no definite purx>ose in mind beyond
a look round the country. Was it all like this, or only
New York?
Newark attracted his attention first. He noted there
were ships at most of the piers in the river and that
none of them bore signs of life. Neither had the streets
on the Jersey side of the river any occupants other than
those who were obviously still forever.
As he flew along toward the Newark airport, a shadow
fell athwart the wing and he looked up.
A big bird was soaring past, flying above and fully
as fast as the plane. In his quick glance Sherman
caught something unfamiliar about its flight, and leaned
over to snap on the mechanical pilot while he had an-
other look. The bird, if bird it was, was certainly a
queer specimen; it seemed to have two sets of wings
and was using them as though it were an airplane, with
the fore pair outstretched and rigid, the hind wings
vibrating rapidly. As he gazed at the bird it drew
ahead of the plane, gave a few quick flips to its fore-
wings and banked around to pick him up again.
It was coming closer and regarding him with an un-
commonly intelligent and by no means friendly eye.
Sherman swung his arm at it and gave a shout — ^to
which the bird paid not the slightest attention. Newark
was running away under him. Reluctantly, he resumed
control of the stick, put the plane into a glide and made
for the airport. It occurred to him that this would be
an awkward customer if it chose to attack him and he
meditated on the possibility of finding a gun in Newark.
The field was bumpy, but he taxied to a stop and
climbed out to look over the silent hangars before one
of which a little sports plane stood dejectedly, with a
piece of torn wing flapping in the breeze. As the
Roamer came to rest he looked back at the bird. It was
soaring away up in a close spiral, emitting a series of
screams. Sherman determined to find a gun without
delay.
Newark was like Jackson Heights; same stony im-
mobility of inhabitants, same sense of life stopped at
full tide in the streets. He prowled around till he
found a hardware store and possessed himself of a fine
.60-.60 express rifle with an adequate supply of cart-
ridges as well as a revolver, added to it a collection of
small tools, and stopped in at a library to get a supply
of reading matter more to his taste than the drug store
could provide.
As he took off again two specks in the sky far to the
north represented, he decided, additional specimens of
the peculiar bird life that had spread abroad since the
change. How long it could have been, he had no idea.
He decided on a flight northwest, following the line
of the mail route. There was a chance that the whole
country might not be engulfed by this metal plague,
though the absence of life in New York was not en-
couraging.
P ORT JERVIS was his first control point, but Sher-
man was fond enough of the green wooded slopes
of the Catskills to run a little north of his course,
bumpy though the air was over the mountains. He set
the automatic pilot and leaned back in his seat to enjoy
the view.
Just north of Central Valley something seemed differ-
ent about the hillside; a new scar had appeared along
its edge. He turned to examine it, swooping as he did
so and in a quick glance from the fast-moving airplane
saw that the great forest trees, maples and oaks, were
all down, twisted, barren and leafless, along a line that
ran right up the valley and across the hill, as though
they had been harrowed by some gigantic storm. The
177
line was singularly definite; there were no half -broken
trees.
He swooped for another look, and at that moment
was conscious of the beat of swift wings and above the
roar of the motor heard the scream of one of those
strange four-winged birds. Half-unconsciously, he put
the Roamer into a steep climb and kicked the rudder to
one side, just as the bird flew past him on whistling
pinions, like an eagle that has missed its plunge, and
recovered to rise again in pursuit. Sherman flattened
out, and without paying any attention to direction,
snapped in the automatic pilot and reached for his gun.
As he bent there came a sharp crack from above and
behind him and another scream right overhead. He
looked over his shoulder to see a second bird clutching
at the edge of the cockpit with one giant claw, its fore-
wings fluttering rapidly in the effort to keep its balance
in the propeller’s slipstream. With the other claw It
grabbed and grabbed for him.
Sherman flattened himself against the bottom of the
cockpit and fired up and back, once — twice — three times.
The plane rocked; the bird let go with a shrill scream,
a spurt of blood showing on its chest feathers, and as
Sherman straightened up he saw it whirling down, the
wings beating wildly, uselessly, the red spot spreading.
But he had no time for more than a glance. The other
bird was whirling up to the attack beneath him, yelling
in quick jerks of sound as though it were shouting a
battle-cry.
The pistol, half-empty, might too easily miss. Sher-
man sought the rifle, and at that moment felt the im-
pact of a swift blow on the floor of the plane. The bird
understood that he had weapons and was attacking him
from beneath to avoid them! The thought that it was
intelligent flashed through his mind with a shock of
surprise as he leaned over the side, trying to get a shot
at his enemy. Beneath the plane he caught a momentary
glimpse of the ground again, torn and tortured, and in
the center of the devastation the ruins of a farmhouse,
its roof canting crazily over a pulled-out wall.
The bird dodged back and forth, picking now and then
at the bottom of the plane with its armored beak. He
leaned further trying to get in a shot, and drew a chorus
of yells from the bird, but no more definite result.
Bang! Again. Miss. Out of the tail of his eye he saw
the line of green leap into being again. Flap, flap went
the wings beneath him.
Suddenly from below and behind him there rose a
deep humming roar, low pitched and musical. Abruptly
the screaming of the bird ceased; it dropped suddenly
away, its forewings folded, the rear wings spread,
glider-like as it floated to the ground. He turned to look
in the direction of the sound, and as he turned a great
glare of light sprang forth from somewhere back there,
striking him full in the eyes with blinding force. At
the same moment something pushed the Roamer for-
ward and down, down, down. He could feel the plane
give beneath him, but in the blind haze of light his
fumbling fingers could not find the stick, and as he fell a
wave of burning heat struck his back and the sound
of a mighty torrent reached his ears. There was a crash
and everything went out in a confusion of light, heat
and sound.
When he recovered consciousness the first thing he
saw was a blue dome, stretched so far above his head
that it might have been the sky save for the fact that
the light it gave had neither glare nor shadow. He
puzzled idly over this for a moment, then tried to turn
his head. It would not move. “That’s queer,’’ thought
Herbert Sherman, and attempted to lift an arm. The
178
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
hands responded readily enough but the arms were im-
movable, With an effort he tried to lift his body and
discovered that he was tightly held by some force he
could not feel.
Herbert Sherman was a patient man but not a meek
one. He opened his mouth and yelled — a good loud yell
with a hard swearword at the end of it. Then he stood
still for a moment, listening. There was a sound that
might be interpreted as the patter of feet somewhere,
but no one came near him, so he yelled again, louder
if possible.
This time the result accrued with a rapidity that was
almost startling. A vivid bluish light struck him in
the face, making him blink, then was turned off, and
he heard a clash of gears and a hum that might be that
of a motor. A moment later he felt himself lifted,
whirled round, dropped with a plunk, and the blue dome
overhead began to flow past at rapidly mounting speed
to be blotted out in a grey dimness. He perceived he
was being carried down some kind of a x>assage whose
ceiling consisted of dark stone. A motor whirred
rapidly.
The stone ceiling vanished; another blue dome, less
lofty, took its place. The object on which he was being
carried stopped with a mechanical click and he was
lifted, whirled round again and deposited on some sur-
face. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse
of something round, of a shining black coloring, with
pinkish highlights, like the head of some enormous
beast, and wiggled his fingers in angry and futile effort.
H e was flopped over on his face and found himself
looking straight down at a grey mass which from
its feel on nose and chin, appeared to be rubber.
He yelled again, with rage and vexation and in reply
received a tap over the head with what felt like a rub-
ber hose. He felt extraordinarily helpless. And as the
realization came that he was helpless, without any con-
trol of what was going on he relaxed. After all, there
was no use . . . Some kind of examination was in prog-
ress. There was the sound of soft-treading feet be-
hind him.
After a slight pause he was bathed in a red light of
such intensity as to press upon him with physical solid-
ity. He closed his eyes against it, and as he did so, felt
a terrible pain in the region of his spine. Was it death?
He gripped metallic teeth together firmly in an effort
to fight the i)ain without yelling (perhaps this was de-
liberate torture and he would not give them the satis-
faction) and dully, amid the throbbing pain, Sherman
heard a clatter of metal instruments. Then the pain
ceased, the light went off and something was clamped
about his head.
A minute more and he had been flipped over on his
back, and with the same whirring of motors that had
attended his arrival, was carried back through the
passage and into the hall of the blue dome. He was
still held firmly; but now there was a difference. He
could wiggle in his bonds.
With a clicking of machinery, he was tilted up on the
plane that held him. A hole yawned before his feet
and he slid rapidly down a smooth incline, through a
belt of dark, to drop in a heap on something soft. The
trapdoor clicked behind him.
He found himself, unbound, on a floor of rubber-like
texture and on rising to look around, perceived that he
was in a cell with no visible exit, whose walls were
formed by a heavy criss-crossed grating of some red
metal. It was a little more than ten feet square; in
the center a seat with curving outlines rose from the
floor, apparently made of the same rubbery material as
the floor itself. A metallic track ended just in front of
the seat; following back, his eye caught the outline of a
kind of lectern, now pushed back against the wall of
the cell, with spaces below the reading flat and handles
attached. Against the back wall of the cell stood a
similar device, but larger and without any metal track.
Beside it two handles dangled from the wall on cords
of flexible wire.
This was all his brief glance told him about the con-
fines of his new home. Looking beyond it, he saw that
he was in one of a row of similar cells, stretching back
in both directions. In front of the row of cells wds a
corridor along which ran a brightly-burnished metal
track, and this was lined by another row of cells on the
farther side.
The cell at Sherman’s right was empty, but he ob-
served that the one on the left had a tenant — a metal
man, like himself in all respects and yet — somehow un-
like. He stepped over to the grating that separated them.
“What is this place, anyway ?’’ he inquired.
His neighbor, who h^ been sitting in the rubber
chair, turned toward him a round and foolish face with
a long, naked upper lip, and burst into a flood of con-
versation of which Sherman could not understand one
word. He held up his hand. “Wait a minute, partner,”
he said. “Go slow. I don’t get you.”
The expression on the fellow’s face changed to one
of wonderment. He made another effort at conversa-
tion, accompanying it with gestures. “Wait,” said the
aviator, “Sprechen Sie Deutsch? . . . Francais? . . .
Habla Espanol? ... No? Dammit what does the guy
talk. I don’t know any Italian — Spaghetti, macaroni,
Mussolini!”
No use. The metal face remained blankly uninspired.
Well, there is one thing men of all races have in com-
mon. Sherman went through the motions of drawing
from his pocket a phantom cigarette, applying to it an
imaginary match, and blowing the smoke in the air.
It is impossible for a man whose forehead is com-
posed of a series of lateral metal bands to frown. If it
were the other would have done so. Then comprehen-
sion appeared to dawn on him. He stepped across to
his lectern, and ivith his toes, pulled the bottom slide
open, extracted from it a round rubber container and
reaching through the bars, handed it to Sherman.
The aviator understood the difference that had puz-
zled him in the beginning. Instead of the graceful back-
sweeping curve that sets a man’s head vertical with his
body, this individual had the round-curved neck and
low-hung head of the ape.
CHAPTER XII
The Poisoned Paradise
T O HIDE his surprise Sherman bent his head to
examine the object the ape-man had handed him.
It was about the size of a baseball with little
holes in it. He inserted a finger in one of the holes,
and a stream of oil squirted out and struck him in
the eye. His neighbor gave a cry of annoyance at his
clumsiness and reached through the bars to have the
ball returned. As he received it there came sudden
flickerings of lights along the hall from somewhere
high up, like the trails of blue and green rockets. The
mechanical ape-man dropped the oil-ball and dashed
to the front of his cell.
Sherman saw a vehicle proceeding down the line of
cells; a kind of truck that rode on the track of the
corridor and was so wide it just missed the gratings.
It had a long series of doors in its sides, and as it
came opposite an occupied cell, stopped. Something
invisible happened; the bars of the cell opened inward
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
and the inmate emerged to step into a compartment
which at once closed behind him.
When it stopped at the ape-man’s cage Sherman
watched the procedure closely, A little arm appeared
from beneath the door of the compartment and did
something to one of the lower bars of the cell. But
the truck passed Sherman by, moving silently along
to other cells beyond him.
He turned to examine the room more closely, and as
he did so, saw that a second truck was following the
first. This one, with an exactly reversed procedure,
was returning robots to their cells. This second truck
dropped an inmate in the cell at his right (another
ape-man) and trundled along down the line, but as it
reached the end of the corridor, turned back and run-
ning along till it came to his cell, stopped, flung out
the metal arm, and opened the bars in invitation.
Sherman had no thought of disobeying; as long as
he was in this queerest of all possible worlds, he
thought, one might as well keep to the rules. But he
was curious about the joint of the cage and how it
unlocked and he paused a moment to examine it. The
machine before him buzzed impatiently. He lingered.
There came a sudden clang of metal from inside the
car, a vivid beam of blue light called his attention,
and looking up, he saw the word “EXIT” printed in
letters of fire at the top of the compartment.
With a smile he stepped in. A soft light was turned
on and he found himself in a tiny cubbyhole with just
room for the single seat it provided and on which he
seated himself. There was no window.
The machine carried him along smoothly for per-
haps five minutes, stopped and the door opened before
him. He issued into another blue-domed hall. A small
one this time, containing a rubber seat like that in
his cell, but with an extended arm on which rested a
complex apparatus of some kind. The seat faced a
white screen like those in movie theaters.
He seated himself and at once a series of words
appeared in dark green on the screen. “Dominance
was not complete,” it said. “Communication?” Then
below, in smaller type, as though it were the body of
a newspaper column, “Lassans service man. Flier
writing information through communication excellent.
Dinner bed, book. No smoking. Yours very truly.”
As he gazed in astonishment at this cryptic collec-
tion of words it was erased and its place was taken
by a picture which he recognized as a likeness of him-
self in his present metallic state. A talking picture,
which made a few remarks in the same incompre-
hensible gibberish the ape-man had used, then sat
down in a chair like that in which he now rested, and
proceeded to write on the widespread arm with a stylus
which was attached to it. The screen went blank . . .
Evidently he was supposed to communicate something
by writing.
The stylus was a metal pencil, and the material of
the arm, though not apparently metallic, must be, he
argued from the fact that it seemed to have electric
connections attached. As he examined it, the blue
lights flickered at him impatiently. “The white
knight,” he wrote in a fit of impish perversity, “is
climbing up the poker." Instantly the words flashed
on the screen.
Pause. “IS CLIMBING” declared the screen, in
capitals; then below it appeared a fairly creditable
picture of a knight in armor followed by a not very
creditable picture of a poker. Sherman began to com-
prehend. Whoever it was behind this business had
managed a correspondence course of a sort in English,
179
but had failed to learn the verbs and he was being
asked to explain.
For answer he produced a crude drawing of a mon-
key climbing a stick and demonstrated the action by
getting up and going through the motions of climbing.
Immediately the screen flashed a picture of the knight
in armor ascending the poker by the same means, but
it had hardly appeared before it was wiped out to be
replaced by a flickering of blue lights and an angry
buzz. His interlocutor had seen the absurdity of the
sentence and was demanding a more serious approach
to the problem. For answer Sherman wrote, "Where
am I and who are you?”
A longer pause. “Dominance not complete,” said the
screen. Then came the picture of the first page of a
child’s ABC book with “A was an Archer who shot
at a frog” below the usual childish picture. Then
came the word “think,” With the best will in the
world Sherman was puzzled to illustrate this idea, but
by tapping his forehead and drawing a crude diagram
of the brain as he remembered it from books, he man-
aged to give some satisfaction,
T he process went on for three or four hours as
nearly as Sherman could judge the time, ending
with a flash of the word “Exit” in red from the screen
and a dimming of the blue-dome light. He turned
toward the door and found the car that had brought
him, ready for the return journey. As it rumbled
back to his cell he ruminated on the fact that none of
the men (or whatever it was) behind this place had
yet made themselves visible, for it was incredible that
beings of the type of the metallic ape-man who -occu-
pied the next cell to his should have intelligence
enough to operate such obviously highly-developed ma-
chinery.
But what next? He pondered the question as the
car deposited him in his cell. Obviously, he was being
kept a prisoner. He didn’t like it, however comfort-
able the imprisonment.
The first thing that suggested itself was a closer
inspection of his cell. The lectern yielded an oil-ball
like that the ape-man had given him and another, sim-
ilar device, containing grease. There were various
tools of uncertain purpose and in the last drawer he
examined a complete duplicate set of wrist and finger
joints. The larger cupboard had deep drawers, mostly
empty, though one of them contained a number of
books, apparently selected at random from a good-
sized library — “Mystery of Oldmixon Hall,” “Report
of the Smithsonian Institution, 1903,” “The Poems of
Jerusha G. White” — a depressing collection.
This seemed to exhaust the possibilities of the cell
and Sherman looked about for further amusement.
His ape neighbor had pressed himself close to the bars
on that side, indicating his interest in what Sherman
was doing by chuckling bubbles of amusement. Fur-
ther down the line one of the ape-men was holding
the pair of handles that projected from the wall beside
his cabinet. Sherman grasped his also; there was a
pleasant little electric shock and in the center of the
wall before him a slide moved back to disclose a circle
of melting light that changed color and form in pleas-
ing variations. The sensation was enormously invig-
orating and it struck the aviator with surprise that
this must be the way these creatures . . . "These
creatures!” he thought, “I’m one of them.” . . . the
way these creatures acquired nourishment. The
thought gave him an inspiration.
“Hey!” he called in a voice loud enough to carry
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
throughout the room. “Is there anyone here that can
understand what I’m saying?’’
There was a clank of metal as faces turned in his
direction all down the line of cages. “Yes, I guess
so,’’ called a voice from about thirty feet away. “What
do you want to say?’’
Sherman felt an overwhelming sense of relief. He
would not have believed it possible to be so delighted
with a human voice. “Who’s got us here and why are
they keeping us here?” he shouted back.
A moment’s silence. Then — “Near’s I can make out
it’s a passel of elephants and they’ve got us here to
work.”
“What?” Sherman shouted back, not sure he had
heard aright.
“Work!” came the
answer. “Make you
punch the holes 'on
these goddam light
machines. It wears
your fingers off and
you have to
screw new
\ ones in at
a picturesque bit of metaphor on the part of the
farmer.
Why it must be an actual invasion of the earth, as
in H. G. Wells’ “War of the Worlds,” a book he had
read in his youth. The comet could have been no
comet then, and . . . Yet the whole thing — ^this trans-
formation of himself into a metal machine, the crash
of the Roamer and his subsequent bath in the painful
red light. It was all too fantastic — then he remem-
bered that one does not feel pain in dreams . . .
They were giving him books, food — if this electrical
thing was indeed the food his new body required —
little to do; keeping him a prisoner in a kind of poi-
soned paradise.
... At all events the locks on these bars should
offer no great difficulty to a competent mechanic. He
set himself to a further examination of the tools in
the lectern.
r]pHE main difficulty in the way of any plan of es-
^ cape lay in his complete lack of both information
and the means of obtaining it. The mechanical ape-
men were hopeless; they merely babbled incoherent
syllables and seemed incapable of fixing their atten-
He was rewarded by a tearing pain in his fingertip.
Behind the ground glass a red light now appeared.
(Illustration b\ Paul)
“No, I mean about the elephants.”
“That’s what I said — elephants. They wear pants,
and they’re right smart, too.”
Insoluble mystery. “Who are you?” called the
aviator.
“Mellen. Harve Mellen. I had a farm right here
where they set up this opry house of theirs.”
Along the edge of Sherman’s cell a blue light began
to blink. He had an uncomfortable sensation of being
watched. “Is there any way of getting out of here?”
he shouted to his unseen auditor.
“Sssh,” answered the other. “Them blue lights
mean they want you to shut up. You’ll get a paste in
the eye with the yaller lights if you don’t.”
So that was it! They were being held as the serv-
ants — slaves — of some unseen and powerful and very
watchful intelligence. As for “elephants with pants”
they might resemble that and they might not; it was
entirely possible that the phrase represented merely
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
181
tion on any object for as long as five minutes. As for
the New York farmer his cage was so far away that
the conversation could be carried on only in shouts,
and every shout brought a warning flicker of the blue
lights. On the second day, out of curiosity, Sherman
kept up the conversation after the blue lights went
on. A vivid stream of yellow light promptly issued
from one corner of the cage, striking him fully in the
eyes, and apparently it was accompanied by some kind
of a force-ray for he found himself stretched flat on
the floor. After that he did not repeat the experiment.
The next question was that of the lock on the cell-
bars. The closest inspection he could give did not
reveal the joints ; they were extraordinarily well fitted.
On the other hand, he remembered that the arm of
the truck had reached under one of the lower bars.
Lying flat on his back, Sherman pulled himself along
from bar to bar, inspecting each in turn. About mid-
way along the front of the cell, he perceived a tiny
orifice in the base of one bar — a mere pin-hole. Mar-
velling at the delicacy of the adjustment which could
use so tiny a hole as a lock he sat down ’to consider
the question.
He was completely naked and had nothing but the
objects that had been placed in his cell by his jailers.
However —
Among the assortment of tools in his bureau was a
curve-bladed knife with the handle set parallel to the
blade as though it were meant for chopping, and form-
ing the wall of the same drawer was a strip of a
material like emery cloth. After some experimenting
he found a finger-hole which, when squeezed, caused
this emery-cloth to revolve, giving a satisfactory
abrasive. ,
Thus armed with a tool and a means of keeping an
edge on it, he took one of the metal bands from the
drawer that contained the duplicate set of hands and
set to work on it . . .
Producing a needle that would penetrate the hole
in the bars was all of three days’ work, though he had
no means of marking the time accurately. The metal
band was pliable, light, and for all its pliability and
lightness, incredibly hard. His tool would barely
scratch it and required constant sharpenings. More-
over, he had little time to himself; his unseen scholar
required constant lessons in English. But at last the
task was done. Choosing a moment when one of the
cages at his side was empty and the occupant of the
other was busy over some silly sport of his own —
tossing a ball from one hand to another — Sherman lay
down on the floor, found the opening and drove his
needle home. Nothing happened.
He surveyed the result with disappointment. It
was disheartening, after so much labor to attain no
result at all. But it occurred to him that perhaps he
had not learned the whole secret of the arm, and the
next time the car came down the corridor for him,
he was lying on the floor, carefully watching the
opening.
As he had originally surmised, a needle-like point
was driven home. But he noted that on either side
of the point the arm gripped the bar tightly, pressing
it upward.
This presented another difficulty. He had only two
hands; if one of them worked the needle he could
grip the bar in only one place. But he remembered
fortunately, that his toes had showed a remarkable
power of prehension since the change that had made
him into a machine.
He finally succeeded in bracing himself in a curi-
ously twisted attitude and driving the needle home
under the proper auspices. To his delight it worked
— ^when the needle went in the bars opened in the
proper place, swinging back into position automatically
as the pressure was withdrawn.
With a new sense of freedom Sherman turned to the
next step. This was obviously to find out more of the
place in which he was confined and of the possibilities
of escape. It seemed difficult.
But even on this point he was not to be long with-
out enlightenment. His unseen pupil in English was
making most amazing progress. The white screen
which was their means of communication now bore
complicated messages about such subjects as what con-
stituted philosophy. Sherman felt himself in contact
with an exceptionally keen and active mind, though
one to which the simplest earthly ideas were unfa-
miliar. There were queer misapprehensions — for in-
stance, no process of explanation he could give seemed
to make the unseen scholar understand the use and
value of money, and they labored for a whole day over
the words “president” and “political.”
In technical matters it was otherwise; Sherman had
barely to express the idea before the screen made it
evident that the auditor had grasped its whole pur-
port. When he wrote the word “atom” for instance,
and tried to give a faint picture of the current theory
of the atom, it was hardly a second before the screen
flashed up with a series of diagrams and mathematical
formulae, picturing and explaining atoms of different
types.
After four weeks or more (as nearly as Sherman
could estimate it in that nightless, sleepless place where
time was an expression rather than a reality) the car
that came for him one day discharged him into a room
entirely different from the school-room. Like the
school-room it was small, and some twenty feet across.
Against the wall opposite the door stood a huge ma-
chine, the connections of which seemed to go back
through the wall. Its vast complex of pulleys, valves
and rods, conveyed no hint of its purpose, even to his
mechanically-trained mind.
Across the front of it was a long, black board, four
feet or more across and somewhat like the instrument
board of an airplane in general character. At the top
of this board was a band of ground glass, set off in di-
visions. Beneath this band a series of holes, each just
large enough to admit a finger, and each marked off
by a character of some kind though in no language
Sherman had ever seen.
To complete the picture, one of the mechanical ape-
men stood before the board as though expecting him.
On the ape-man’s head was a tight-fitting helmet, con-
necting with some part of the machine by a flexible
tube. As Sherman entered the room the ape-man mo-
tioned him over to the board, pointed to the holes and
in thick, but intelligible English, said “Watsch!” A
flash of purple light appeared behind the first of the
ground-glass screens. The ape-man promptly thrust
his finger into the first of the holes. The light went
out, and the ape-man turned to Sherman. "Do,” he
said. The light flashed on again, and Sherman, not un-
willing to learn the purpose of the maneuver, did as his
instructor had done.
He was rewarded by a tearing pain in the finger-tip
and withdrew the member at once. Right at the end
it had become slightly grey. The ape-man smiled. Be-
hind the second ground-glass a red light now appeared
and the ape-man thrust his finger into another of the
apertures, indicating that Sherman should imitate him.
This time the aviator was more cautious, but as he
delayed the light winked angrily. Again he received
182
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
the jerk of pain in the finger-tip and withdrew it to
find that the grey spot had spread.
When the third light flashed on he refused to copy
the motion of his instructor. The light blinked at him
Insistently. He placed both hands behind his back and
stepped away from the machine. The ape-man, looking
at him with something like panic, beckoned him for-
ward again. Sherman shook his head; the ape-man
threw back his head and emitted a long, piercing howl.'
Almost immediately the door slid back and the car ap-
peared. As Sherman stepped to its threshold, instead
of admitting him, it thrust forth a gigantic folding
claw which gripped him firmly around the waist and
held him while a shaft of the painful yellow light was
thrown into his eyes ; then tossed him back on the floor
and slammed shut vengefully.
Dazed by the light and the fall, Herbert Sherman
rolled on the floor, thoughts of retaliation flashing
through his head. But he was no fool, and before he
had even picked himself up, he realized that his present
cast was hopeless. Gritting his teeth, he set himself to
follow the ape-man’s instructions, looking him over
carefully to recognize him again in case — .
The course of instruction was not particularly diffi-
cult to memorize. It seemed that for each color of
light behind the ground-glass panels one must thrust
a finger into a different one of the holes below; hold it
there in spite of the pain, till the colored light went out,
and then remove it. The process was very hard on the
fingers, made of metal though they were. What was it
the farmer had shouted down the hall? “Wears your
fingers out?" Well, it did that, all right. After an
hour or two of it, when he had learned to perform the
various operations with mechanical precision and the
tip of his index finger had already begun to scale off,
the ape-man smiled at him, waved approval and reach-
ing down beneath the black board, pulled out a drawer
from which he extracted a finger-tip, made in the same
metal as those he already bore, and preceded to show
Sherman how to attach it.
As a mechanic, he watched the process with some
interest. The “bone” of the finger, with its joint,
screwed cunningly into the bone of the next joint be-
low, the lower end of the screw being curiously cut
away and having a tiny point of wire set in it. The
muscular bands had loose ends that merely tucked in,
but so well were they fashioned, that once in position,
it was impossible to pull them out until the finger-tip
had been unscrewed.
The instruction process over, he was returned to his
cell, wondering what was to happen next. The poisoned
paradise was becoming less of a paradise. He specu-
lated on the possibility of wrecking the car that bore
him from place to place, but finally decided that it could
not be done w'ithout some heavy tool and was hardlj
worth the trouble in any case until he was more certain
of getting away afterward.
CHAPTER XIII
The Lassan
W HEN the car next called for him, it took a much
longer course; one steadily downward and
around a good many curves as he could judge
from the way in which it swayed and gained and lost
speed. It was fully a twenty-minute ride, and when he
stepped out it was not into a room of any kind, but in
what appeared to be a tunnel cut in the living rock,
at least six feet wide and fully twice as high. The
rock on all sides had been beautifully smoothed by some
unknown hand, except underfoot where it had been left
rough enough to give a grip to the feet.
At his side were two of the ape-men who had been
released from the car at the same time. The tunnel
led them straight ahead for a distance, then dipped and
turned, to the right. As he rounded the comer he could
see that it ended below and before him in some room
where machinery whirred. The ape-men went straight
on, looking neither to the right nor the left. As they
reached the door that gave into the machine-room
they encountered another ape-man wearing the same
kind of helmet with its attached tube, as Sherman’s in-
structor had worn. The ape-men who came with him
stopped. The helmeted one looked at them stupidly
for a moment and then, as though obeying some un-
spoken command, took one by the arm and led him
across the room to the front of a machine and there
thrust one of the ubiquitous helmets on his head.
The machine, as nearly as Sherman could make out,
was a duplicate of that on which he had Injured his
fingers; as the helmet was buckled on the ape-man who
stood before it he immediately began to watch the
ground-glass panels and put his fingers in the holes
below.
The process was repeated with the second ape-man,
and then the sentinel returned to Sherman. Taking
him by the arm, the mechanical beast led him past the
row of machines (there seemed to be only four in the
room) and to a door at one side, giving him a gentle
push. It was the opening of another tunnel, down
which Sherman walked for some forty or fifty yards
before encountering a second door and a second hel-
meted ape-man sentry.
This one did exactly as the first had done. Stared
at him for a moment, then took him by the arm and
led him across the room to a machine, where it left
him. Sherman perceived that he was supposed to care
for it, and with a sigh, bent to his task.
It was some momenta before the rapid flashing of
lights gave him a respite. Then he had an opportunity
to look about him and observed that, as In the other
room, there were four machines. Two of them were
untenanted, but at the one next to his, there was some-
one working. When he glanced again, he was sure it
was a mechanized human like himself — and a girl I
“What is this place?" he asked, "and who are you?”
The other gave a covert glance over his shoulder at
the sentry by the door.
“Sash!" she said out of the corner of her mouth, "not
so loud . . . I’m Marta Lami — and I think this place
is helH"
After a time they contrived a sort of conversation, a
word at a time, with covert glances at the ape-man
sentry. He looked at them suspiciously once or twice,
but as he made no attempt to interfere they gained
confidence.
“Who — is — ^keeping — us — ^here?" asked Sherman.
“Don’t — know," she replied in the same manner.
“Think — it’s — ^the — elephants."
"What elephants?" he asked a word at a time. “I
haven’t seen any.”
“You will. They come around and inspect what
you’re doing. Are you new here?"
"New at these machines. They had me teaching
them to write English. This is my first day in here.”
"This is my eightieth work-period. We lost track
of the days.”
“So did I. Where are we? Are there any other
humans with you?”
“One in the cage across the corridor from me. Wal-
ter Stevens the Wall Street man.”
“Have they got him on this job, too?"
“Yes.”
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
183
Sherman could not avoid a snicker. Back in the days
before the comet he had had Stevens as a passenger
once, and a more difficult customer to satisfy, a more
cocksure-of-his-own-importance man he had never seen.
The thought of him burning his fingertips up in one of
these machines gave him some amusement. But his
next question was practical.
“Do you know what these machines are for ?”
"Haven’t the least idea; Stevens said they were for
digging something. They had the helmets on him
twic6.^*
"What helmets?”
"Like the dopey at the door wears. The dopeys all
have to wear them.”
“Why?”
"Haven’t got any brains, I guess. I had one on once
when they were teaching me to do this. They tell you
what to think.”
"What do you mean?”
“You put the helmet on and it’s like you’re hypno-
tized. You can’t think anything but what they want
you to think.”
Sherman shuddered slightly. So that was how the
mechanical ape-men were controlled so perfectly!
"How did they get you ?” asked the girl who had de-
scribed herself as Marta Lami.
“In an airplane. I’m an aviator. They shot me down
somewhere and when I came to, put me in one of those
cages. How did you get here?”
"The birds, I was at West Point with Stevens and
that old fool Vanderschoof. They started shooting at
the birds and the birds just picked us up and flew away
with us.”
“Where were you after you came to? I mean after
the comet.”
“New York. Century Koof. I was dancing there be-
fore.”
"You aren’t Marta Lami, the dancer?”
"Sure, Who the hell do you think?”
H e turned and regarded her deliberately, care-
less of the aroused attention of the sentry. So
this was the famous dancer who had blazed across two
continents and three divorce suits — who had been pro-
claimed the most beautiful woman in the world in star-
ring electric lights before an applauding Broadway; for
whose performances speculators held tickets at prize-
fight premiums! How little she resembled it now, a
parody of the human form, working her fingers off as
the slave of an alien and conquering race.
She asked the next question:
“Where have they got you?”
"I don’t know. In a cage somewhere. The only peo-
ple around there are like these mugs.” He nodded
toward the ape-man.
“I wonder how long they’ll keep us at this.”
"I wish I could tell you. How’s chances of making
a break?”
"Rotten. There was a guy at the next machine tried
it three or four work-periods ago. He socked the dopey
at the door.”
"What happened?”
"They sent a machine down for him and gave him
the yellow lights all over. It was fierce, you should
have heard him scream,”
“How far down are we, ansrway?”
"You got me, boy friend. Sssh! Watch the dopey.”
Sherman glanced over his shoulder to see the ape-
man moving aside from the door and bent back to his
work. Evidently something important was imminent,
judging from the actions of the sentry and the ener-
getic attention the ex-dancer was giving to her machine.
He was not deceived. Down the passage came some-
thing moving; something flesh-like and smooth, of a
pale, grey-blue, dead-fish color, like a dangling seri)ent,
then a round bulging head and finally the full form of
an elephant !
But such an elephant as mortal eye had never before
seen. For it stood barely eight feet high and its legs
were both longer and infinitely more slender and grace-
ful than the legs of any earthly elephant. The ears
were smaller, not loose flaps of skin, but possessed of
definite form and pressed close to the head. The skull
was enormous, bulging at the forehead, and wrinkled
in the middle down over the large intelligent eyes in an
expression permanently cross and dissatisfied. As for
the trunk it reached nearly to the floor, longer and
thinner in proportion than the trunk of an ordinary
elephant, and at its tip divided into four finger-like
projections set around the circle of the nostril.
Oddest of all, the elephant wore clothes ! Or at least
an outer garment, a kind of long cloak which appeared
to be attached underneath its body and which covered
every portion except the ankles. The feet also were
covered. A kind of hood hung back from the head on
that portion of the cloak which rested on the creature’s
back. But what chiefly aroused Sherman’s sense of
strangeness and loathing was that the naked skin,
wherever exposed, was of that same poisonous, dead-
fish blue.
For a moment the thing stood in the doorway, re-
garding them, swinging its long trunk around rest-
lessly, as though it could tell something about them by
its sense of smell. Then it advanced a step or two into
the room, and placing its trunk close to Sherman’s body,
began to run over it, sniffing, a few inches away. He
felt that he wanted to shriek, to turn and strike the
thing, or to run, but a warning glance from the dancer
kept him motionless.
Apparently satisfied with the result of its examina-
tion the elephant turned to go, stopping as it did so to
unhook some projection on the ape-man’s helmet and
apply it to its ear. After listening for a moment, it
put the end of the trunk to this projection, snorted into
it, and went away with soundless steps.
For several minutes the two worked on in silence
after this. Then:
"Well, now you seen him,” said the dancer, in the
same word-by-word fashion as before, “That was our
boss.”
"That — thing?” asked Sherman, incredulously.
“I’ll tell the cockeyed world. Say, those babies know
more than Einstein ever heard of. Try to get fresh
with one of them and see.”
"What do they do?”
"Shoot you with one of the light-guns. They carry
little ones around with them. They melt you down
wherever they hit you and you have to go to the oper-
ating room to have things put back and it hurts like
hell.”
"Oh, I must have been there after they brought me
down in my plane. They did something to my back.”
"Then you know, boy friend. After that they put the
helmet on you and you have to tell ’em what you’re
thinking about. You can beat that game, though, if
you’re careful. All I’d give ’em was how good a couple
of Scotch highballs would taste and it made monkeys
of ’em.”
It was all very strange and not a little bewildering.
Intelligent elephants that controlled forces beyond the
powers of men; who could place a helmet on your head
and read your thoughts; who could repair the new me-
184
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
chanized human form after it had apparently suffered
irreparable damage, and who treated men and women
as lower animals. Their arrival must have been that
of the comet.
H erbert SHERMAN had read deeply enough,
though not widely. He remembered some Eng-
lishman — Colvin-^Kevin — Kelvin, that was it! — ^who
had a theory that life had drifted to the earth from
somewhere out in the void of space and time. Had these,
too, drifted in, in the same way the ancestors of man
had come, to set a period to the day of man's dominance
over creation? A strange enough creation it was now,
though, with its mechanical men and its animals turned
to metal statues. He wondered what Noah would say,
and giggled at the thought.
“What’s the joke, boy friend?”
“Oh, nothing. I had an idea.”
Their plight at the hands of these master-animals
was bad, but it might be worse. At least he had a cer-
tain amount of freedom, he was stronger than he had
ever before been in his life, and felt quite as intelligent.
It would be strange if he could not accomplish some-
thing. ... He fell to planning out ways of escaping
and failed to notice the pain in his fingers in the in-
tensity of his thoughts.
Everything seemed to show that the operation of
most of these machines was predominantly electrical.
It would be strange if the car that carried them to and
fro was not, yes and by Jove, the helmets the ape-men
wore. If he could short-circuit the works, or even a
part of them. . . .
Apparently his new body was a good conductor and
Impervious to the injurious effects of the electric cur-
rent. Short-circuit something, that was the idea, create
a confusion — and trust to escaping in the midst of it?
Perhaps — but at all events a good deal could be learned
about these elephant-men and their methods by watch-
ing them in such an emergency. Their machinery was
so efficient that a child could operate it; it was in a
pinch that their real intelligence would show.
It struck him that it would do little good to escape
unless he did learn something about these elephant-
people, their mysterious light-guns, their vast city that
they seemed to have hollowed out of the heart of the
solid Catskill rock, their chemistry and metallurgy and
methods of attack and defense. Otherwise escape would
be a jumping from the frying-pan into the fire. There
would be nothing for it but a desperate, harried ex-
istence, the existence of one of the lower animals faced
by the insupportable competition of man.
Information! That was the first need. He must
bend all his energies to the task of obtaining it.
“By the way, what do these eggs call themselves?”
he asked.
“Lassans,” said the dancer.
A light flickered along the corridor. The ape-man at
the door came forward, touched him on the arm and led
him to the passage where he caught the car back to his
cage.
CHAPTER XIV
In the Passages
T he first thing to be done, Sherman decided, was
to short-circuit the mind-reading helmet of the
guard at the door, if it were possible. He was
not certain that the thing was electrical, and ignorant
of how the current was conveyed if it were. He real-
ized that he was dealing with the products of an utterly
alien form of mentality, one that might not produce its
results in the same way as an earth-man would at all.
But something had to be dared, and this seemed to offer
the best opportunity.
If the thing were electrical, the current must come
through the tube to the top of the head. On his second
work-period he observed this tube with care. It ran
through an aperture in the stone roof and was appar-
ently provided with some spring device, for a consider-
able length of it reeled out when the ape-man wished
to walk across the room, and was absorbed as he re-
turned.
The tube seemed to be made of the rubber-like mate-
rial that composed the floor of his cage. The simplest
plan, of course, would be to bring his chopping-knife
with him and when the ape-man paused before the wall,
swing it up in a sweep, severing the tube. But this,
he felt, was not to be recommended. It would not neces-
sarily short-circuit the current and the damage would
be too readily laid at his door. The desideratum was
some damage that apparently accidental, would yet pro-
duce a good deal of uproar.
He talked it over with Marta Lami.
“I think you’re bugs,” she said frankly, “but anything
for excitement. What do you want me to do about it?”
“Well, here’s what I figured out,” Sherman explained.
“We both arrive about the same time. I’ll bring my
knife. When we come in you hang back a bit, and
while you’re doing it. I’ll take a poke at that cable with
the knife, not enough to cut it, but enough to damage it.
Then about half-way through the work period. I’ll turn
around and say something to you. If I do it quick
enough, I think the monk will start for me, and if the
cable doesn’t go then. I’ll miss my guess.”
The next period proved unsuitable; the dancer’s car
arrived considerably before Sherman’s and the plan was
dropped for the time, but on the following occasion, as
Sherman came down the passage, he noticed Marta
Lami just ahead of him. He hurried to catch up and
she evidently understood, for she avoided the guard’s
outstretched hand and hung back a minute against the
wall as Sherman came up behind. He made one quick
motion; the cable sheared half-way through exposing
two wires of bright metal.
As luck would have it, it proved unnecessary to put
the second part of the plan into operation. For just
as Sherman was nerving himself to swing round and
attract the ape-man’s attention, he heard the soft pad-
pad of one of the approaching Lassans. The ape-man
stepped back to clear the entrance as he had before, and
as he did so, there was a trickle of sparks, a blinding
flash, and the cable short-circuited.
The result was totally unexpected. From the great
machine before Sherman there came an answering
flash; the ground glass split across with a bang, there
was a hissing sound and something blew up with a roar
that rocked the underground chambers. . . .
Sherman came to himself flat on his back and with
pieces of rock and the debris of the machine lying
across his legs. He looked around; Marta Lami lay
some little distance across the room, half covered with
fallen rock, one arm flung across her eyes as though to
protect them. Above, the solid granite looked as though
a blasting charge had been fired in its midst. Sherman
pulled himself to a sitting posture, and finding nothing
damaged, stood upright. The machine, badly shattered,
lay in fragments of bent rods, broken pulleys and
wrecked cylinders all about him. In the place where it
had stood was a long narrow opening, down at the end
of which something irregular shut off a bright point of
light. A blast of heat exuded from the place and a
steady, deep-voiced roaring was audible. The ape-man
guard was nowhere to be seen.
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
185
He bent to pick up the unconscious girl, wondering
l:ow one revived a mechanical woman, especially with-
( ut water, but she solved the problem for him by open-
i^ig her eyes and asking:
"Who touched off the pineapple, boy friend?”
"I did. Come out of it and tell me what we do next.
Anything busted?”
"Only my head.” She patted the mass of stiff wire.
"Boy, am I glad I wore my hair long before they made
a robot of mel” And with an effort she stood up, looked
down the pit where the machine had been and said,
“Say, let’s get out of here. That don’t look so good.”
"All right,” said Sherman, "which way? Wait till
I get my knife.”
"No, leave it,” she said. "Those babies are nobody’s
saps. If they find it on you they’ll know you shot the
well. Come on, I think that thing is going to pop again.”
Half a dozen ape-men stood behind the
benches of their masters apparently
serving at this singular meal.
The roaring had increased in both volume and inten-
sity, and the machine-room had become unbearably hot.
They turned toward the door, but just at the entrance
into the passage a pile of debris had descended, making
egress impossible. Behind them the roaring increased
still more. "Come on, boy friend,” called the dancer,
tearing at the rocks. "Get these out of the road unless
you want to be stewed in your own juice.”
Together they toiled over the blocks of granite, hurl-
ing them backward toward the wreck of the machine.
One minute, two, three — the roaring behind them grew
and spread, the heat became terrific.
« A HI” cried Marta Lami at last. A tiny opening at
Jt\, the top of the heap was before them. Sherman
tugged at a rock — one more, and they would be through.
But it was too big, would not budge.
“No, this one,” shouted his companion and together
they dragged at it. It gave — a cascade of smaller stones
rolled down the heap to the floor. “You first,” said
Sherman and stood aside.
The dancer wriggled through and reached back a
hand to pull him after. He dived, grunted, pushed —
made it. As they turned to slide down the other side of
the heap, he looked back. A little rivulet of something
186
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
white, hot and liquid was creeping through the ruins
of the machine and into the room.
Up the passage, strewn with wreckage, but with no
more blockades, into the upper machine room. The ma-
chines here also were deserted and from one of them is-
sued a minor variation on the roaring sound they had
heard in their own room. The guard was not on duty.
They turned, sped up the next passage to the place
where the cars ordinarily met them. The car-track
was dark; by the illumination from the passage they
could see the rail on which it ran, a foot or two down
from the level of the passage, and about a foot broad —
a single shining ribbon of metal. Sherman looked in
one direction, then the other. Nothing. The roaring
behind them continued.
“Drive on, kid,” said Marta Lami. “The boojums are
going to get us if we wait.”
“Stop, look, listen, watch out for the cars,” he quoted
as they leaped down and both laughed.
The roadbed was as smooth as glass, the rail set flush
with it. Judging that the best route was the one taking
them upward Sherman turned to the right and they
began climbing, hand in metal hand.
The track was on a curve as well as an ascent. After
a few steps they were in complete darkness and could
only feel their way along, running into the wall every
few minutes. They climbed for what seemed hours.
The tunnel continued dark, without branches, simply
winding on and on. Finally, so quickly that Sherman
missed his step, they reached a level place, rounded one
more curve, and saw ahead of them a band of light
across the track from some side-tunnel.
“Shall we try it?” he asked as they reached the open-
ing.
“Might be another machine room,” she said, “but let’s
go. This track is terrible. If I wasn’t made of iron
I’d have bruises all over.”
He vaulted over the sill, reached down and hauled
her after him. From behind them came the roar, sunk
to a vague purring by the distance. They were in an-
other granite-lined passage; one that went straight
ahead for a few yards, then branched sharply. The
right hand fork seemed to lead downward; auto-
matically they took the other turn. A diffused radiance
from somewhere high in the walls, as though the gran-
ite had been rendered transparent here and there, filled
the whole place with shadowless light. For a time
the passage ran level, then it climbed again, with an-
other fork to the right, which dipped away from their
level and which they again avoided. Of any other liv-
ing being there was thus far no sign.
The passage began climbing again, in a tight spiral,
this time.
“Good thing we’re in training,” remarked Marta
Lami. "This is worse than the stairs in the Statue of
Liberty.”
“Oh, did you fall for climbing that, too?” asked Sher-
man.
“Sure. Publicity stunt about a year ago. Dumb
bunny of a publicity man. Photographed on the old
lady’s spikes. Never will again.”
The spiral ended, a side passage branched off. The
dancer stopped.
“Sh,” she said, “someone’s coming. Duck in here.”
She seized Sherman’s hand and led him into the side
passage, down which they ran for a few feet, then
paused to look back. Dovra the passage they had just
vacated came a group of the ape-men, four or five of
them, each carrying on his left arm a long, cylindrical
shield like those one sees in pictures of Roman soldiers,
and in his right hand some instrument that looked like
a fire extinguisher with a long, flexible nozzle.
Each of the group wore one of the helmets and be-
hind them, wearing a similar headgear to which all the
tubes were connected from the ape-men’s helmets came
one of the Lassans. The group hurried past without
a sideward glance, the metal feet of the ape-men ring-
ing oddly loud on the granite of the echoing passage.
After a minute Sherman and the dancer crept cautiously
forward; the procession had gone straight on down.
Very likely a wrecking crew.
Sherman and Marta sprinted up the passage in the
direction from which the ape-men and their guide had
come. The passage no longer rose with the same steep-
ness, and as the ascent grew more gentle, the tunnel
widened, with frequent side-passages to the right and
branches leading down to the track at the left. Finally,
after a sharp turn, it opened out into a big room, un-
tenanted like all they had seen so far, filled vidth a com-
plex maze of machinery, but machinery of a different
character from that they had labored at. At the far-
ther end of the room a door stood open. They dashed
across it, plunged through — and found themselves in
one of the enormous blue-domed halls, whose ceiling
seemed to stretch miles above them.
I T MUST have been all of three hundred feet across,
and there was no visible support for the ceiling. All
about the place stood various objects and pieces of ma-
chinery, and figures moved dimly among the titanic ap-
paratus at the far end. But what most attracted their
attention was the huge object that stood right before
them.
It looked like a metal fish on an enormous scale. Fully
fifty feet long and twenty feet high, its immense pro-
portions dwarfed everything about it, and its sides, of
brilliantly polished metal, shone like a mirror. The tail
came to a stubby point, from which projected a circle
of four tubes; down the side was a rib which ended in
a similar tube about half way, and at the nose-end of
the mechanical fish was a ten-foot snout, not unlike an
elephant’s trunk in shape and apparently made of the
same rubbery material which held the cables of the
helmets.
Marta pulled Sherman down behind the thing, and
they peered around the edge seeking for a means of
egress from the room. The nearest was twenty or
thirty feet away. Watching their opportunity, they
chose a moment when they seemed least likely to attract
attention and made a dive for it.
They found themselves in another passage, terminat-
ing in two doors.
“Which?” asked Sherman.
“Eeny-meeny,” said Marta — “this one,” and stepping
boldly to the right hand door, pushed it open . . .
For a moment they could only gaze. The room they
had entered was another and smaller blue-domed hall.
Around its sides was a row of curious twisted benches
of green material, each of which was now occupied by
one of the Lassans, hood thrown back from head, and
elephant-trunk thrust into a large pool of some viscous,
green stuff with bright yellow flecks in it, in the center
of the circle. Half a dozen helmeted ape-men stood be-
hind the benches of their masters, apparently serving
them at this singular meal.
As the two humans entered there was one of those
silences which are pregnant with events. Then:
“Good evening, folks. How’s the boy?” said Marta,
and curtsied gracefully.
The sound of her words seemed to release the spell.
With a bellow of rage the nearest Lassan leaped from
his bench, fumbling at one of the pouches in his cloak.
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
187
“The light-gun!” thought Sherman and braced himself
to spring, but another of the masters extended his
trunk and detained the first one. There was a momen-
tary babble of rumbling conversation, then one of the
Lassans reached behind him, picked up a helmet and
placed it on his head, and attaching a tube to one of
the ape-men, rose.
The ape-man moved toward Marta and Sherman like
a being in a dream. They turned to run, but the Lassan
produced a light-gun with such evident intention of us-
ing it at the first motion that they paused.
“Looks like we’re in for it,” said the dancer. “Oh,
well, lead on Napoleon. What do we care for expenses?”
Under the direction of the Lassan the ape-man took
them each by an arm and led them back through the
hall of the metal fish, down among the machines, where
two or three others stared at them curiously or lifted
inquisitive trunks in their direction. Then into another
passage which had one of the inevitable car-tracks.
Their Lassan conductor reached around the corner into
the passage, applied his trunk briefly to something and
a moment later one of the cars slid silently into position.
The door opened.
“So long, old scout,” said Marta Lami. “Even if I
never see you again, we had a great time together.”
“So long," replied Sherman, taking his place in the
car. He felt a distinct pang at leaving this dancer —
vulgar, no doubt, and flippant, but gay and debonair,
and the beat of companions.
The car did not take them far. It discharged Sher-
man in a little passage before a narrow door, which
opened automatically to admit him to a small blue-
domed room containing nothing but a seat, one of the
benches on which he had seen the Lassans reclining
and a mass of wires and tubes. There seemed nothing
in particular to do. He was at liberty, save that the
door closed firmly behind him, cutting off escape, and
seeing that he was left alone, he seated himself and be-
gan to examine the machinery, most of which was at-
tached to his chair.
CHAPTER XV
The Lassan Explains
B efore he had time to riddle out any of its secrets
the door opened again and one of the Lassans
came in — a distinctly different type than any
he had hitherto seen. This one was smaller than most ;
bis skin, where exposed, was covered by a tracery of
fine wrinkles and his coloring was whiter than the rest.
Little crowfeet stood around the corners of his eyes,
giving him an expression that was singularly humorous.
He approached Sherman on noiseless feet, moved his
trunk up and down as though examining him and then,
helmets, set it on Sherman’s head, tightened a connec-
producing from a pocket in his cloak one of the thought-
tlon or two with his trunk and placing a like device on
his own head, settled himself on the twisted bench.
The ordeal of the helmet! “They make you think
whatever they want you to ; it’s like being hypnotized,”
Marta Lami had said. He braced himself resolutely.
This alien intelligence should not plumb his thoughts
without a struggle. . . .
To his surprise, there seemed no attempt to force
his mind. The thought leaped up, unbidden, “Why, this
— ^this Lassan is friendly!” No definite image or plan
or connection of ideas formed itself in his brain; he
merely felt enormously soothed and strengthened. After
all, he found himself arguing, nobody desired to hurt
him; merely to discover what curious process of thought
had led him to act as he had.
“You are too intelligent, too high a type to have been
put to work at the machines,” came the unspoken
thought of the Lassan, "We might better have put
you at the controls of one of the fighting machines.”
(This thought caused a mental image of the giant silver
fish he had seen in the hall of the dome to rise in his
mind; he pictured himself as seated amid a mass of
levers before a panel set with complex gauges.)
"It was a mistake,” the thought he was receiving
went on, “that you were sent there. The Alphen of the
mental department, who had your case in charge should
have knovra better. You earth-men make much better
machines than the ones we brought with us. You do
not even need the helmets in order to control. Some
of you are even capable of understanding and operat-
ing the lights.” (This, he explained afterward ap-
peared not as a consecutive sentence in Sherman’s
mind, but as a succession of ideas, almost as though
he were thinking them himself. With the word
“lights” a complex picture presented itself, involving
the light-guns and a large amount of other complex
apparatus, whose exact uses he did not then or later
understand, but which he felt he understood at the mo-
ment.)
“Now,” the Lassan’s thought went on, “I don’t blame
you for being frightened and trying to run away, but
you know we are different and I don’t quite understand
what frightened you. You were working at a machine,
were you not?” And as Sherman unconsciously thought
of himself sticking his fingers in the apertures of the
machines, “I thought so. What happened?”
Unbidden, the memory of the explosion came to him.
Again he heard the Lassan’s step in the corridor, saw
the guard move aside, the sputter from the cable, and
then the explosion; then his memory jumped to the mo-
ment of tugging at the stones with the roar and heat
all round and the white-hot stream in pursuit.
A vague, but sympathetic thought reached him, fol-
lowed by a question — “But what made that happen?
You’re intelligent, you understand these things, you are
a mechanic — what made it happen?”
With a start of surprise Sherman realized that the
Lassan had been leading him gently along from place
to place — to trap him! He struggled desperately to
keep the thought of the short-circuiting of the guard’s
helmet from his mind; struggled to think about any-
thing else at all — thought of a plate of steaming corned
beef and cabbage, of the multiplication table — 5 x 6 =
25, all in neat rows of figures, thought of how to control
a plane that had gone into a tail-pin . . .
The pressure suddenly relaxed, the mind opposite his
became friendly again ; once more he received the vague
intimation of sympathy and understanding, even of
admiration of his mental strength.
“Why,” the thought was telling him, “you have quite
as much mentality as a Lassan! That is a very high
compliment. I have never before met one of the lower
animals who could withhold his thoughts from me. It is
most extraordinary. Is it possible for you to withhold
your thoughts from your own kind as well?”
Not at all difficult, thought Sherman, relaxing a bit;
indeed the difficulty in human communication lies not
in withholding thoughts but in expressing them.
His interlocutor went on, “Ah, but the feeling, the
thought is generally understood, though it may not be
clear. Tell me, have you never withheld a thought from
someone who wished to know it?”
Yes, thought Sherman I have — and remembered the
poker game at the Cleveland airport when he had drawn
two cards and unexpectedly filled a straight flush to win
the hi.ggest pot of the evening from Barney’s full house;
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
188
and of the time when he had thought of numerous un-
pleasant ways of slaying the mechanic who had left a
leak in his oil-line and of the time when a girl had tried
to gold-dig him and he had divined her intention first,
and of the time when he had lifted the knife — ! ! !
Again that jar! He realized with a start that the
Lassan having failed to pick his brain with friendli-
nass, was trying to do it with flattery, and the realiza-
tion so filled him with anger that he had no difficulty
in resisting the pressure that was applied to make him
tell, tell, tell what had happened in the machine-room
at the end of the passage.
Once more the pressure relaxed. The Lassan was
congratulating him again. “No, this is sincere this
time and not flattery. You win. I shall not try to
make you tell me again. We can probably obtain it
from the other one anyway. Oh, man of a debased and
alien race, I salute you. If your race were all like you
we might breed them for intelligence and live in cooper-
ation with you. It is almost a pity you had to be me-
chanized. If there is any information you wish, I will
gladly exchange with you. We have seen your homes,
we are curious — imagine living above the ground! —
and from others of your race we know that you have
many fine machines, almost a civilization, in fact. We
would willingly know more of it and in return will tell
you of our accomplishments.”
C OULD this offer conceal some new trap? Sherman
wondered, but the Lassan divined this thought as
soon as formed, and reassured him. “Since we now
live here and since there are so few of your folk left it
is important that we know about each other. We must
live side by side — why not in friendship?"
The offer seemed fair enough. At all events if there
were any injudicious questions he could turn them
aside, and there was a good deal he wished to learn —
about his mechanized body, about the purpose of those
curious machines, the blue-domed halls, the silver fish,
the interweavings of this underground city, where the
Lassans had come from — he assented.
“Good," the message reached him. “Suppose you ask
a question and then I will. What do you wish to
know?”
“How I was made into a machine.”
“I do not know that I can explain it to you. I per-
ceive your knowledge of the nature of light is elemen-
tary. . . . But the material with which we surrounded
the space-ship in which we came, in order to protect it
from the radiation of suns unknown to you, has a pow-
erful action on all animal substances. It is a material
not unlike your radium, but a thousand times more pow-
erful. When we reached your planet, your atmosphere
carried it to every part of the earth, and all living
things received it. Those who were most affected by it
were turned to metal which retained that quality called
‘life’ within its interior reaches; the others became
merely solid metal.
“Our birds are under instructions to bring us all such
individuals as possess life. In our laboratories we
make their forms over, so they will be useful to us as
servants. Those who have become solid, of course, noth-
ing can be done for. We have found in the past that
when we take a new planet and make the individuals
over into machines, unless we return them to familiar
surroundings, they lose their brains when they reawake.
Therefore you woke in the same place in which you
passed from consciousness.”
“Wonderful,” said Sherman, “and where do you come
from and how did you get here?”
He felt the Lassan’s amusement. “That is two ques-
tions you have asked, and not one. Nevertheless I will
answer. We come from a planet of another star, very
far away — I do not know how to express it to you.
Your methods of measurement for these things are dif-
ferent from ours.” In Sherman’s mind appeared a pic-
ture of the night heavens with the tremendous ribbon
of the Milky Way swinging across its center; his at-
tention was directed to one star, a very bright one.
“Rigell" his mind called, and the thought went on.
He was suddenly transported to the neighborhood of
the star, felt that it was ages ago, long before the earth
had cooled, and saw that the star, then a sun like our
own, was threatened by some enormous catastrophe, a
titanic iCxplosion. Abruptly the picture was wip^ out
and he; beheld the comet, the great comet the earthly
astroncmers had watched for so long before it struck on
that fateful night, and realized that it was no comet,
but an interplanetary vehicle bound from the planet of
Rigel to' the earth.
“But how — ?” he began to frame another question.
The Lassan cut across it firmly. “It is my turn to seek
information\^now. We are interested in the machine
that brought here^ — ^the bird machine. How does it
operate ?”
Sherman imagined himself in the airplane’s seat, op-
erating the controls and as well as he could to a strange
type of mind? explained how they worked. “But what
drives it?” insisted the Lassan. “I do not understand.
No, not the queer thing at the front that turns round.
We have that principle ourselves. But the thing that
makes it turn.”
For answer, Sherman tried to picture the interior of
the engine and show the gasoline exploding and driving
it. The mind opposite his became thoughtful at once,
and then flashed a question. “Are there many — ex-
plosives — in this earth?"
Sherman pictured gunpowder, dynamite and all the
others he could think of. He at once sensed that the
Lassan was both astonished and troubled. Something
like a mental curtain which he could not pierce, dropped
between them. A moment later the elephant-man rose.
“That will be sufficient for the present," he flashed,
and came forward to remove the helmet from Sher-
man’s head.
A FEW moments later the door was swung open;
Sherman saw that one of the cars was waiting for
him with the word “EXIT” beckoning him on and he
was soon back in his cage.
As nearly as he could judge time, he was left alone
for quite twenty-four hours before being recalled for
further questioning. As soon as he entered the inter-
rogation room he perceived that something serious had
engaged the attention of the Lassans. The seat was
prepared for him as before, but instead of one of the
twisted benches, there were now three. His acquaint-
ance, the old Lassan, occupied the center one; on one
side was a chubby elephant-man whose obesity gave a
singularly infantile expression to his features and on
the other a slender-limbed type, as though by contrast.
All three had tubes connected to the helmet which was
placed on his head, but he soon recognized that the
older Lassan was the only one to ask questions.
“We wish to ask you about these explosives,” came
the message, “Are they all alike?”
"No,” he answered instantly.
“What causes them to explode?”
“I am not a chemist. I dwi’t know.” The idea of
chemistry was slightly unfamiliar to them; it was ap-
parent from their thoughts that chemistry had never
occurred to them as the subject of a special study. Then
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
189
came another question, "Are there many chemists?”
An idea struck Sherman. He closed his mind reso-
lutely against the question and flashed back the message
that he had come to learn as well as teach. He sensed
a certain annoyance among the new auditors, but the
old Lassan answered, "That is only just. What do you
wish to know?”
"What the machines are for."
"In the center of this as of every other earth lies the
substance of life, as it lies at the heart of every sun.
The machines pierce to it and draw it up for our uses.”
"What is this substance of life ?”
"You would not understand if we told you. Sufficient
that it is nothing known on the surface of your world.
Your idea that most nearly approaches it is — ” he
paused for a moment, feeling about in Sherman’s mind
for the proper expression " — is pure light; light having
material body and strength. Now let me ask — do you
use explosives as we use the substance of life, to fight
your enemies?”
"Yes.”
"What weapons do you use them in?”
Sherman thought of a revolver and then of a cannon.
"And do these weapons act at a distance?”
"Yes. May I ask a question?”
"If It is a brief one. This interview is important to
us.”
"How many of your people are there on the earth?”
“It is inadvisable to answer that fully, but there are
some hundreds. Now tell us, are there any of these
weapons near this place?”
Sherman thought. West Point — ^Watervliet Arsenal
— Iona Island, leaped into his mind. All three Lassans
leaned back with a sigh of satisfaction and exchanged
thoughts among themselves so rapidly that he could not
follow the process. Then the two younger Lassans dis-
connected their helmets and the older one said,
“We are disposed to be generous to you, we will dem-
onstrate one of our fighting machines to you if you will
show us how to use these explosives.”
There could be no particular harm in it, he argued to
himself. The army was a thing of the past, and if there
were other people out in the world, and he could take
them a knowledge of the Lassan fighting machines it
would be of as much value as any information he could
give. He agreed.
The old Lassan rose. "You will retain your helmet.
It is a rule that none of the lower races are allowed in
the fighting machines without them, and you would be
unable to control one without our help in any case.”
The car carried them to the blue-domed hall where
he and Marta Lami had hidden behind the shining fish.
A little pang of loneliness leaped up in him at the sight ;
he wondered where she was and whether she had been
sent back to the machines. "No,” the Lassan’s thought
answered his, “the other servant has not been returned
to the machines. Many of them are not working as a
result of the recent trouble and the servant has been
placed on other work instead. But I do not understand
your idea that the other servant is somehow different
from you.”
"Do the Lassans, then, have no sex?” the thought
raced through his brain.
"Sex? Oh, I understand. The difference between
two of the lower soft races that makes reproduction
possible. Our birds have it. No, we have abolished
it of course, as all higher races have. Our young are
produced artificially.”
CHAPTER XVI
A Dash for Freedom
T hey stood before the big machine. "You must
do exactly as I tell you,” the Lassan informed
him. "The machinery of this instrument is very
delicate. First, to enter, you must reach up there, by
that fin, and insert one of your fingers in the hole you
will find.”
As he did so Sherman saw a door, so closely fitted
that when it closed there was no visible seam in the
metal, swing back. They entered.
The interior of the machine was disappointingly
smaller than its outside would have led one to expect. A
narrow walk, railed on both sides, led down the center
to the forward part. Along and slightly below this
walk was a row of instrument boards not unlike those
of the mining machine, and at each of these one of the
ape-men lay, helmet on head, apparently asleep. "No,
not asleep,” the Lassan told him, "they do not require
it, like all your mechanical servants. They have merely
been thrown into a state of nothingness till we need
them.”
At the prow of the machine the cat-walk widened into
a control chamber. One of the Lassan couches was here
and above it dangled a helmet which was connected
with those of the slumbering ape-men. The Lassan
removed the helmet he wore and exchanged it for this.
Before this was another seat in which Sherman took
his position. A complex of controls surrounded him,
most of them with the fingerholes which were the or-
dinary Lassan method of handling machinery. Directly
in front of this seat was a ground-glass panel, now dark
but which lit up as soon as the Lassan had connected
up his helmet, to give an accurate picture of the hall in
which the fighting machine stood.
"And can you see to a distance?” Sherman wondered.
The answer he received was either confused or beyond
his comprehension. He gathered that the four-winged
birds of the Lassans acted in some way or other as their
scouts, remaining in a kind of telepathic communication
with the Lassan in the fighting-machine they were as-
signed to help. . . .
Sherman was surprised to find how readily the enor-
mous bulk and weight of the thing handled under the
Lassan’s skilled control. He understood, without defi-
nitely asking, that the power was furnished by that
"substance of life” to which the Lassan had referred;
in some way connected vdth the absolute destruction of
matter. . . .
The door swung open before them, leading them down
a passage that went up for some distance, then through
an immense room where some twenty more of these
giants lay stored, through it, and with surprising sud-
denness into the bright sunlight of a Catskill autumn
day. As they emerged the viewing plate swung round
to show them three of the big four-'s^nged birds go
whirring up from some unseen covert, spiral into the
air above them and flying level with them, form an
escort.
Like most mail aviators, Sherman held a commission
in the Army Reserve and had been to West Point. If
was not difficult for him to guide the great fighting
machine there, to find a field gun and ammunition and
load it into the fighting machine. He knew very little
about artillery of any kind, but when they returned to
the door of the Lassan city, he was enough of a me-
chanic to get the shell into the breech and find the fir-
ing mechanism. The gun went off with an ear-splitting
crack and the shell whistled down the valley to burst
against a green hillside where they saw a graceful pine
dip and fall to the shock.
ISJ WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
And just at that moment such a sense of disturbance
and alarm invaded Sherman’s mind as he had never felt
before. He looked around; the group of Lassans who
had poured out of the city to see the experiment with
the gun was gathered in a tight knot, eagerly convers-
ing with one another. The old Lassan who was con-
ducting him turned round abruptly. “Into the fighting-
machine at once," he commanded. “Our birds have
sent a message that they are being attacked by some
strange creature of your world.”
As Sherman climbed through the door of the fight-
ing machine he glanced over his shoulder to see, far
down the valley a black speck against the sky. An air-
plane? he wondered and it suddenly occurred to him
that however great his thirst for information, he should
have kept his knowledge of guns from the Lassans ; for
if there were other people alive out there in the world
the day might come when it would be a battle — and
explosives were as new to the Lassans as the light-ray
to the children of men.
AFTER that it became a struggle.
Sherman found he had to be constantly on his
guard; constantly he had to conceal knowledge from
the probing, insistent mind-helmets. The Lassans
seemed interested in only one subject now: human meth-
ods of making war, human guns, human armor, human
ships. Once they brought him an encyclopedia and as
he held it on his lap went over every word of the ar-
ticles on military subjects, questioning and cross-ques-
tioning him. Fortunately, it was an old encyclopedia,
and he knew so little about it that in most cases he was
able to throw open his mind and let his opponents see
that it lay empty on these subjects. And still they were
not satisfied.
Yet if he gave information, he also received it; for
little by little an understanding of the subtle material
they called pure light became part of his mental equip-
ment. . . .
One day, as he returned from a long session in the
questioning room and his cage clicked into position be-
hind him, he was startled by a cheery, strident voice:
“Well, well, if it isn’t my old pal, Herbie. How’s the
boy?’’
Sherman looked around. In the next cage was Marta
Lami, grinning and extending her hand through the
bars.
“For Heaven’s sake!" he said, and took the offered
hand. “How did you get here?”
“How does anyone get anywhere around this place?
In one of those patent Fords of theirs.”
They gazed at each other for a moment, too glad of a
familiar face to make the ordinary banal remarks. The
dancer spoke first:
“Well, did they put the screws on you, big boy? They
tried to pump me about that accident but all I’d think
about was how good Broadway would look with all the
lights, and they didn’t make much out of me.”
“I’ll say they put the screws on me. They’ve had me
in there every day since, trying to find out something
about guns.”
“Guns? Whatt’hell! Ain’t they got that light-ray?
They could give cards and spades to all the guns in the
world with that. Wait a minute, though . . .” She
thought for a moment. “Do you know, I think they’re
scared yellow about something and I’ll bet a hundred
dollars against a case of bathtub gin I know what it is.”
“Yeh? Spring it. They keep pumping me and I’d
like to know what it’s all about.”
The dancer glanced around. On the far side of her
cage was an inattentive ape-man tossing his oil-ball
about, across the corridor another. “Come over here,”
she said. “They haven’t put me next to you for the
fun of it, and they may have a dictaphone stuck around
somewhere.”
Obediently Sherman approached the bars of the cage.
“They put me to work making those fighting-ma-
chines,” she whispered, “you know, those big shiny
things like we hid behind that day we tried to make
the break. They had the helmets on me most of the
time because I didn’t know how to use their tools and
machines and I got a lot of what the guy that was run-
ning me was thinking about. He was damn nervous
about something, and I think it was because there are
some people outside going to take a whack at these
babies.”
“People like — us?” asked Sherman.
“I don’t know. I didn’t get it very good, but I think
they’re ordinary flesh-and-blood people. They came and
got a lot of the dopeys from the room where I lived the
other day and put them in one of the new fighting-
machines and took it out. It never came back.”
“Mmm,” said Sherman, “do you s’pose that was be-
cause it got cracked up or because they took it some-
where else?”
“Dunno. But something’s stirring.”
If the Lassans had set a dictaphone or some similar
device to spy on them there was no sign of it in the
conversation which Sherman’s interrogator held with
him during the next period. But when he saw the dancer
again, she beckoned him silently to her side, and produc-
ing from one of her drawers a book, began to trace let-
ters on it with a fingernail dipped in grease.
"Be careful what you say," she wrote. "They know
what we’re talking about. They pumped me."
He nodded. "Well, kid” he said aloud. “What do you
think? Will you ever make dancers of these Lassans?”
She giggled her appreciation of this remark for their
unseen audience. “I’ll say I won’t. They’re too slow
on their pins. Rather sit still and suck up that green
gooey than do anything. Cheez! What would I give
for some good music.”
“If I had a hand-organ now — ” said Sherman. "We’ve
got the monk.” He nodded toward the ape-man, while
with his own fingernail he wrote. "How’s chances of
getting out of her el Do you know the way?"
"I’ll speak to one of the big shots tomorrow," she said
aloud. “Maybe we can get him to let us run a show.”
On the book’s flyleaf appeared the words. "Only from
the work-room on. It has an outside door."
“How would I do as a dancing partner?” asked Sher-
man. "Good," he wrote. "I’ve doped out how to work
these cars. Are you game for a try at it?”
“You haven’t got the figure,” she said. “I’d rather
dance with that old papa Lassan that does the ques-
tions.” "Sure,"' she wrote, "any time you say.”
They broke off the conversation at this point, and
Sherman set himself to study out a plan for escape.
He had watched the cars intently both inside and out.
The same needle arrangement that released the cage
bars, apparently, actuated the mechanism of the car
doors, and it was located inside. This meant that he
could secure admission to the same car that carried the
girl, and with luck, would be able to get out at the
same time she did. What to do after that was a matter
of chance and inspiration. If only he had a weapon!
. . . The oil and grease balls. They would do to throw
— might spoil a Lassan’s aim or check the rush of one
of the ape-man servants.
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL 191
AS FINALLY arranged between them the plan was
XA. that he was to get in the same car she did. She
would tap on the back of her compartment to assure
him that everything was in order, and tap again when
the door opened for her to get out. He would leave
her a second to get her bearings, then they would make
a rush of it. He weighed the usefulness of the knife
as a weapon and discarded it — too clumsy for throwing
and in a close struggle with one of the ape-men slaves,
made of metal like himself, it would be quite useless.
But another tool, rather like a short-handled and badly
shaped hammer, he did take.
At last the hour arrived. The car ran down the line
of cages, paused; opened before Marta Lami’s. She
smiled at him, nodded, and purposely delayed getting in.
He fumbled desperately with his needle, fearing he
could not make it, then it went home, the. little arm at
the bottom of the car swung out and its door opened.
As he stepped in he heard the dancer’s tap of encour-
agement from the compartment ahead.
Evidently it was some little distance to the work
room. The car made several stops on the way, but
Sherman, braced and ready, listened in vain for the
tap that would tell him they had reached their destina-
tion. At last it came ; two soft knocks. He bent, thrust
home the needle. The door slid back, and he stepped out
into one of the blue-domed rooms. His eyes caught a
fantastic maze of machinery, helmeted ape-men busy
at it and beyond them the huge forma of several uncom-
pleted fighting machines.
The dancer gripped his hand. “This way,” she said,
pointing along the wall past the machines. "Take it
easy; don’t run till they notice us.”
A feverish passion for activity burned in him.
"Hurry, hurry,” called every sense, but he fought it
down and followed Marta Lami down the line of ma-
chines, past the impassive ape-men.
They made over half the distance to the door before
tliey were spotted. Then one of the Lassans, who had
sauntered over to the car stop, evidently expecting
Marta, missed her and looked around. The first warn-
ing the two had was a sudden flickering of blue lights
here and there among the machines. "Come on,”
shouted Marta. "There she goes!”
Sherman looked over his shoulder, saw the Lassan
tugging at his pouch for a ray-gun, and paused to
throw one of the oil-balls, straight and true, as one
pitches a baseball. It struck the elephant-man squarely
between the eyes, at the base of this trunk. He squealed
with pain and fright and dropping the ray-gun, ran be-
hind a machine. For a second all the eyes in the room
turned toward him; then with another flickering of
lights, the hunt was up.
Sherman saw a helmeted ape-man at a machine just
ahead turn slowly round, gazing vacantly, and then
fling himself at Marta. As she side-stepped to avoid
his rush, Sherman swung his left from the heels. The
metal fist took the slave flush on the jaw, and down he
went with a crash. The dazzling spout of a ray-gun shot
past them, spattering against the wall in a shower of
stars, and they had reached the exit.
"Come, oh come!” shouted Marta, tugging at the
heavy door. Sherman pulled with her, and at that
moment another ray-gun flash struck it, just over their
heads. The door gave suddenly; they tumbled through.
Into a gray twilight they struggled, shot with little
dashes of rain that had beaten the valley to mud.
"Cheez!” said Marta, struggling through the gela-
tinous stuff. "If I live through this, I’ll live to be a
million.”
"No, not that way,” called Sherman. They’ll look
for us down the valley. Come on, up the hill.”
He pulled her upward. They slipped, stumbled, slid,
gripped the stump of a tree, then another. Below and
behind them came a confused rumble and they heard the
great door swing open again. A burst of light, like a
star in the cloudy dark, broke out, and Sherman pulled
the girl down behind the stump of a huge tree.
"What do you s’pose they’ll bring after us?” he whis-
pered, his lips close to her ear.
"Dunno. One of the little machines maybe. Look.”
Sherman i>eered cautiously round his side of the
stump. In the valley beneath them, shining brilliantly
in the pure white light it had released, was one of the
metal fish — but a smaller one than the usual fighting
machine, and without the projecting trunk.
"We’ve been working on them for a while,” the girl
whispered. "I don’t know what they’re for, but they
aren't fighting machines.”
Remembering how the vision plate of the fighting
machine he had controlled had reflected every object
within range, Sherman made himself small behind the
stump. The machine below was probably trying to
locate them in the light it had released.
"Wonder they don’t bring the birds out,” he thought,
and as if in answer to this idea, one of the four-winged
creatures strutted around the machine, blinking in the
light, then took off with a whir of wings, and spiralled
upward. The light went out, reappeared as a beam,
pointing down the valley and the machine moved off,
slowly sweeping the sides of the hills with its pencil of
illumination. He could see the multiple glow of the
tubes at the stern, greenly phosphorescent, as the ma-
chine progressed. High above the bird screamed
shrilly.
CHAPTER XVII
Marta’s Sacrifice
P ROGRESS up the hillside was slow. It had be-
come completely dark; they were without any
means of making a light and would not have dared
to make one if they could. The mud was tenacious,
the constant contact with stumps and rocks both irritat-
ing and difficult. But at last in their fumbling way,
they reached a spot where the denudation gave place
to a line of trees, looming dark and friendly overhead
against the skyline, and after that they went faster.
Where they were or what route to take neither had
any idea. That portion of the Catskills is still as wild
as in the days of the Iroquois, save for the few thin
roads along the line of the valleys and these they dared
not seek.
They solved the difficulty by keeping to the hill-crest
till it ran out in a valley, then rapidly climbing the next
hiQ and proceeding along that in the shelter of the
forest. Though they necessarily went slowly they did
not halt; neither felt the need of rest or sleep, their
metal limbs took no serious bruises, and the slip of the
hill kept them from running in circles as people usually
do when lost in the woods.
Just as the eastern sky began to hold some faint
promise of dawn they came upon a farmhouse in a clear-
ing at the top of a hill. It was an unprepossessing affair
with a sagging roof, but they burst in the door and
went through it in the hope of finding weapons and
perhaps an electric battery, for both were used to the
bountiful electric meals of the Lassans and were be-
ginning to feel the lack.
The best the place afforded, however, was a rather
ancient axe, of which Sherman possessed himself, and
a large pot of vaseline with which they anointed them-
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
selves liberally, for the continued damp was making
them feel rusty In the Joints.
They pressed on, and did not halt to consider the
situation till full day had come.
“Where do we go from here?" asked Marta, perch-
ing herself on a tree-bole.
“South, I guess,” offered Sherman. “They may be
looking for us there, but we got to find a city and get
some things.”
“There’s Albany,” she suggested.
“Yes, and Schenectady and they have a lot of electric
power there we could use. But I vote for New York.
If we head in there I can pick up a plane at one of the
airports and walk right away from them.”
“Well, it’s a chance,” she said, “but anything is.
Come on ... ” and as they forced their way through
the underbrush, “You know, from what I understood
of those Lassans’ thoughts, they’ve got something hot
cooking up. I’m almost sure there are other people in
the world and they’re getting ready to fight them.’
“Let ’em come,” said Sherman grimly. "That light
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
198
they’re building guns of their own to shoot those light-
bombs. I ought to know. I was on the job.”
Sherman cursed himself inwardly. So that had been
the result of his exchange of information with the old
Lassan who was so anxious to know about guns.
“How do they get away from it?” he asked.
“Well, I don’t know quite,” she said. “I’m a sap about
stuff like that. All I know is what the guy that was
controlling me thought about and let me have without
knowing it. But I got this much out of it — ^that the
outside of these fighting machines is coated with this
‘substance of life’ they talk about some way, so it’s
a perfect mirror, and reflects everything that hits it,
even shells. The coating reflects their light ray, too,
but it has to have a lead backing for that. It’s no good
without the lead. Seems like lead will stop that light-
ray every time.”
“I wonder how about big guns,” murmured Sherman.
“Don’t know. I didn’t get anything like that in what
the boss was thinking. He seemed to imagine the gun
he had was the biggest there was.”
They toiled on. As they progressed southward the
thinning forest and the increasing walls of the cliffs
drove them farther and farther toward the river, till
they were forced to take to the main road willy-nilly.
Along it they could walk faster, but there was more
danger. They watched the heavens narrowly for any
sign of the four-winged birds, but the skies seemed
deserted.
At Kingston they found a filling station, and kicking
in the door, located a couple of storage batteries that
supplied them with a needed meal. “What do you say
to a car?” asked Sherman.
“Maybe yes, maybe no,” said the dancer. “It’s run-
ning a chance, isn’t it? Still, we’re getting nowhere
awful fast this way. Let’s try it.”
Finding a car in running order was a procedure of
some difficulty, and Kingston seemed a weaponless town,
though Marta finally did locate one little pearl-handled
.25 calibre pop-gun. Sherman eyed it dubiously.
“That’s a good thing to kill mosquitoes with,” he re-
marked, “but I don’t think it will be much use for
anything else.”
“Boloney,” she replied. “These Lassans are yellow
from way back. If I stuck this under the nose of one
of them he’d throw a fit. Come on. Let’s go.”
Eventlessly, the road flowed past under their wheels
— Newburgh, Haverstraw, Nyack — one, two, three
hours. Then, just south of Chester the dancer sud-
denly gripped Sherman’s arm.
“What’s that?” she said. “No, over there. Isn’t
it—?”
But in one swift glance he had seen as clearly as she.
Like a living thing, the car swerved from the road,
dived across the ditch, and losing speed, rolled to a halt
on the green lawn of a suburban bungalow. Sherman
leaped out. “Come on, for God’s sake,” he cried. “It’s
a fighting machine. If they’ve seen us they’ll start
shooting.”
194
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
Dragging her after him, he dived around the house,
through a seedy flower-garden, down a path. As though
to lend emphasis to his words there came the familiar
buzzing roar, and as Sherman dropped, pulling the
girl flat on her face after him, they saw the wall of
the bungalow cave in, and the roof tilt slowly over and
drop into the burning mass beneath. A vivid blue beam,
brighter than the sunlight of the dark day, swept across
the sky, winked once or twice, and disappeared.
Marta would have risen, but “Take it easy,” said
Sherman. “If they see us they’ll pop another of those
tokens at us.”
He wriggled along on his stomach, picking up weeds
in his body plates in the process, and making for the
shelter of an overgrown hedge that ran behind the next
bungalow.
“Look out,” called the dancer suddenly. “Here come
the birds.”
She waved her hand up and back, and by screwing up
his eyes Sherman could just make out a black speck
against the clouds, far north. They rolled under the
shelter of the hedge and lay still, scarcely daring to
whisper.
The Lassan in command of the fighting machine was
evidently not satisfied that he had hit them with his
hasiy shot. Peering through the stems, they made out
the shimmering form of the machine, sliding slowly
past the burning house, its snout moving hither and
thither questioningly. It passed through the garden,
went on down the path. The bird swung to and fro
overhead. Nearer. Evidently it had noticed the prints
their feet left in the soft ground.
“Listen, partner,” said Marta Lami, “get through and
find some people, then come and get me out of that hell-
hole up there. If they see me, they’ll let you alone.”
“No!” cried Sherman, but she was already running
out across the field. The snout of the machine lifted
toward her as though to deliver a blast, then rose and
discharged another beam of blue light. Sherman heard
one of the birds scream in answer, saw it sweep down
on soaring pinions, and in a single motion snap the
dancer up and away. The shimmering fighting machine
swung round and turned back toward the road.
He lay still until he was sure it had gone, then, mov-
ing carefully for fear of the terror from the skies,
crawled to the next bungalow. It yielded treasure-trove
in the shape of a flashlight and a serviceable revcfiver,
and securing a sheet from one of the beds to wrap
around him as a loin-cloth, he set out to trudge to New
York.
After a time it occurred to him that the disaster had
taken place not because they were in a car, but because
it had been driven unreasonably fast, and without pre-
caution. He looked for and ultimately found another
one, and keeping to the back streets and driving slowly,
worked his way toward the city again. Then another
idea came to him — Newark had an airport as well as
New York and it was far nearer. He changed the direc-
tion of his advance, swinging west to avoid the long
bridges over the Passaic Kiver. Bridges were focal
points; the birds would surely watch them, as intelli-
gent as they were.
Late in the afternoon he spied one of them, far ahead
and flying southward, but took no chances. He drew his
car up to the side of the road and remained motionless
for long after it had disappeared. When evening came
on, he had already reached the outskirts of the city and
could proceed without headlights.
Newark was a dead city, the diminished purr of the
motor ringing curiously loud In the silent streets. Their
complication bothered him ; he was unfamiliar with the
town and his flashlight gave out long before he reached
his destination. But he kept steadily on, certain that
the airport was somewhere at the south and east of the
city. Toward the later evening a fine, cold rain began
to fall, congealing to ice on the streets and on hia
metallic body.
The airport was just as he had remembered it on
the first day of his awakening — it now seemed un-
countable ages in the past. The little sports plane still
stood on the platform, its torn wing dangling. The
hangars were all locked; he was an inefficient burglar
and spent an hour or two breaking one open and when
he did, found nothing but a tri-motored monster quite
beyond his powers to get out, and a rocket-plane requir-
ing special fuel that he did not have. The next hangar
yielded an autogiro and a training machine. He had no
watch, but was sure that the night was passing fast,
and not wishing to be abroad by daylight with an air-
plane, decided to chance it on the autogiro. Luckily she
was full of fuel, and everything seemed tight. With
some labor he removed the chocks and managed to wheel
the machine out.
Not till he had it in the air did the thought of what
direction he was to take occur to him. Boston — New
York — Philadelphia — Chicago, he canvassed the possi-
bilities. What was it Marta Lami had said — something
about one of the fighting machines heading south ? And
he remembered how the astronomers had predicted that
the comet would fall, probably, somewhere in New York
State. If there were a borderline along which Lassans
were meeting humans in any kind of conflict it was most
likely to lie southward. With this thought in mind, he
turned his plane to the south, and keeping the white
line of foam along the coast beneath him as a guide,
began to let her out.
The ceiling was low ; between clouds and fitful squalls
of rain flying was diflicult and the weight of Sherman’s
mechanical body seemed to make the machine move log-
gily. It must have been all of an hour and three quar-
ters later that he saw beneath him the tossing white-
caps of Great Bay, with the ribbon of Wading River
running back into the distance. Just beyond, he knew,
lay Atlantic City. He was debating with himself
whether to land on the beach there or hop across to the
Philadelphia airport when, sharp and clear from some-
where ahead and below him, came the sound of gunfire.
He tried for altitude, but only ran into clouds. Never-
theless the sound was unmistakable, and as he ap-
proached it became clearer and more pronounced, a long
intermittent beat, heavy guns and light, mingled to-
gether, off to the right. There was fighting going on!
Exulting in hia escape from the Lassans and in the
fact that he could take their opponents information that
would be of value, he swung the autogiro toward the
sounds that became clearer every minute. He was get-
ting right over them now, he thought ; he could see red
flashes along the horizon. Down there they were locked
in battle — men and Lassans, his own people and the in-
vaders from far-away Rigel.
Suddenly a beam of the light-ray leaped from the
ground. Sherman thought it was directed at him ; tried
to loop the plane and cursed as he remembered autogiros
wouldn’t loop ; then saw that the light was after all, not
turned in his direction, but at some object on the
ground. He banked the plane over and swung lower.
Undoubtedly a Lassan fighting machine — and the beam
was hitting things, things large and solid, for they
collapsed under the stabbing ray. A red flame rose over
the wreck; the roar of an explosion reached his ears.
The battle-line!
He soared again. He must reach the headquarters of
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL 196
whatever men were down there. The information he
could bring and that Marta Lami had given him might
make all the difference between the loss of the world
and its salvation “ . . . perfect mirror — reflects every-
thing that hits it, even shells, but they don’t know about
the big ones. . . . The lead will reflect their light-rays,
too ... no good against lead. Their armor is made of
the same stuff. ...”
In the darkness beneath him troops were moving. He
could catch glimpses of dark masses on the roads.
Somewhere down there he distinctly heard the call of
one of the four-winged birds, quite near. Then with a
rush, it was suddenly upon him. He set the automatic
pilot, and drew his revolver, but the bird, unfamiliar
with the machine it was attacking, had dashed reck-
lessly in. There was a rending screech as it came into
contact with the wings of the autogiro ; Sherman got in
one shot, and then bird, man and plane tumbled toward
the earth.
CHAPTER XVIII
The End of the Light-Ray
]|' Lassans?" said General Grierson, in a puz-
I zled tone, looking at the sheet-clad apparition.
JL "You mean these — mechanical monsters?”
Sherman winced. "Like myself? No, sir, those are
their slaves. I thought you were familiar with them.
They are elephant-men and quite different.”
“I meant those damned, long, shining objects that
shoot that light-ray of theirs. Their guns shoot it out
in packages, but we can understand that and deal with
them; our artillery is just as good. But if we can’t stop
those shining things there will be no army left and that
means no men left on this planet. This army is our
last resource. If you know of anything, anything, that
will stop them, for God’s sake tell us! All we’ve found
that docs any good so far are the twelve-inch railroad
guns and we have only four of them. One was knocked
out by their shells this afternoon.”
“You mean their fighting-machines,” Sherman re-
plied. “Why, I’m not absolutely certain. I only know
what I picked up from them and what Marta Lami” —
he swallowed hard at the mention of her name — “the
bravest woman in the world, told me. But I think that
a shell with a lead cap would go through those fighting
machines like a knife through a piece of cheese.”
There was a tiny silence in the room at this momen-
tous announcement. Then an artillery officer said,
dreamily, “The armor-piercing shells the railroad guns
use have lead caps.”
As though his words had released a spell there came a
quick drumfire of questions:
“What are they armored with?”
"What kind of a power-plant do they use?”
“Can you stop the light-ray?”
“What makes you think so?”
Sherman smiled. “Just a moment. One question at
a time. I’m not sure I can answer them all, anyway.
As to what makes me think so and what they’re armored
with, they have a coating of steel armor, but it isn’t
very thick. It’s plated on the outside with a coat of
lead and outside that with the substance they call ‘pure
light.’ I don’t know what it is, but it’s the same stuff
they use in the light-ray and in their shells, and I know
that lead sheeting will stop it, even when the lead is
very thin.”
General Grierson swung round in his chair. “Hart-
nett ! write out an order to General Hudson, Chief Quar-
termaster, at once. Tell him to remove every piece of
lead he can find in Atlantic City and get it melted down.
Also to set up a plant for tipping all shells with
lead ”
Ben Ruby leaned forward. “Can we get into their
city, their headquarters, or whatever they call it?”
“My God, I hope so!” cried Sherman. "Marta Lami’s
in there.”
“All right, young man, you’ll have your chance for
that,” said General Grierson. “Now suppose you tell us
as much as you know about these — things. Every bit of
information we can get will be valuable. . . . Oh, by the
way, Hartnett. Have an order made out to the infantry
to cut the points of their bullets with their knives.
That will make them dum-dum and bring the lead out.
Also another one to evacuate as much infantry as pos-
sible. They aren’t going to be a great deal of use. ...”
In the factory of the Atlantic City Packing Company
men were toiling, stripped to the waist, in an inferno
of heat. The huge row of vats that had once held clams,
oysters and fish to grace a nation’s palate, now sim-
mered with green-phosphorescent kettles of molten lead ;
the hand trucks that once bore piles of canned goods to
and fro now pushed by blue-faced men in khaki, held
long stacks of pointed shells. In at one end of the
building they came in ceaseless procession to pause be-
fore the lead tanks where the workmen took each shell
and dipped its tip briefly in the lead, then returned it
to the truck. Out the other end they wheeled to be
loaded in trucks, buses, limousines, everything that had
wheels and would move, to be rushed to the maw of the
ceaselessly crying guns.
For the offensive was on — the advance of the Lassans
had been turned to a retreat. Along the water’s edge,
with its back to the sea and the steamers ready to pick
up the survivors of the defeat of the last army of man,
the last army of man had rallied; rallied and stood as
the new lead-tipped shells began to come in and the
artillery spouted them at the Lassan fighting-machines,
no longer invincible, invulnerable monsters, but hittable
and smashable pieces of mechanism.
It was Ben Ruby in a tank shining dully with the
new lead plating who led the charge against the Lassan
fighting machines on the first day of the battle, and who,
with his little division of American tanks, had encoun-
tered three of the huge Lassan monsters outside the
city. For a moment, as though dazed by the audacity
of this attack, they had done nothing at all. Then all
three had turned the light-rays on him. Would it hold?
The deadly rays glanced off, danced to the zenith in a
shower of coruscating sparks and the gun of the Amer-
ican tank spoke — once, twice. A round hole, with a
radiating star-pattern running out from it, appeared in
the nose of the nearest Lassan fighting-machine, and it
sank to the earth like a tired animal, rolling over and
over, helpless. The other two turned to flee, swinging
their long bodies around. Surrounded by shell-bursts,
riddled by the lead-tipped weapons they too, struggled
and sank, to rise no more.
AFTER that there had been losses, of course. The
Lassan shells occasionally burst in the back areas
and claimed a toll. But the advance had gone on stead-
ily for a whole day, unchecked ; the Lassans were driven
back.
And then, as suddenly as they had come, they disap-
peared. South African aerial scouts, far ahead of the
army, reported there was no sign of the enemy in the
whole of New Jersey. The dodos vanished from the
skies, the fighting machines from the earth. The Las-
sans seemed to have abandoned the struggle and retired
to their underground city to wait for the end.
“Frankly,” said Sherman, “I don’t like it. Those
johnnies are too smart to give up like that. I’ll bet you
196 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
a thousand dollars against a lead bullet that they’ve
gone back there to figure out some surprise for us,
and when it comes it’s going to be a beaner. Those
babies may be elephants to the eye, but there’s nothing
slow about their brains.”
“General Grierson doesn’t think so,” said Ben Ruby.
"He’s all ready to hang out the flags and call it a day.
He sent home two more divisions of infantry yesterday.”
“General Grierson hasn’t got the finest girl in the
world locked up in that hole under the Catskills, burning
her fingers off,” said Sherman with a set face. “Say,
those babies aren’t licked by a million miles. Their
guns are just as good as ours and that light stuff they
put in them is worse than powder when it goes off.
They just didn’t have as many guns. I’m taking even
money that when they come out again, they’ll have
something that will make our artillery look sick.”
They stood on a street-comer in Philadelphia, the new
headquarters of the army of the federated governments.
“Yes, but what are we going to do about it?” asked
Ben.
“A lot. For one thing we might go up there and try
to bust in, but I don’t think that would be very hot.
They’ll be expecting it. What we can do though, is get
General Grierson to give us one of the laboratories here
in town and some men to help us, and dope out a few
little presents on our side of the fence. I learned plenty
through those thought helmets of theirs while I was in
that place, though I didn’t realize I was getting a lot
of it at the time. Those helmets work both ways, you
know, and they couldn’t keep me from picking up some
of their stuff, especially as they were so anxious to find
out what I knew they didn’t watch themselves.”
“Nice idea,” said Ben. “I know a little about chemis-
try and between us we might put over something good.
Let’s Go.”
An hour later, they were installed in their own ex-
perimental laboratory, just off Market Street, with
enough assistants to help them with routine work and
Gloria Rutherford and Murray Lee to keep them
amused.
“All right, chief,” said Ben, when they were installed.
“What do we do first?”
“Figure out some kind of armor that will stand off
whatever kind of ray they pop up with, I guess,” offered
Sherman.
“May I stick my two cents in?” said Murray Lee.
“I don’t think that any kind of armor is going to do
a lot of good. For one thing, you don’t know what the
Lassans are going to produce. Those tanks we had
were armored against the best kind of shells, and the
Lassans turned up with the light-ray that made them
look like Swiss cheese. It’s your show, but if I were
fishing for something, it would be a way to sock those
guys. In this kind of war, the man that gets in the
first punch is going to beat.”
“That light-ray of theirs is pretty good,” said Ben.
“From what you know about it already, you ought to
be able to dope out a pretty good heat ray.”
“No soap,” said Sherman. “Too slow. They’ll be all
set for that, anyway. It’s right along the line they
think. No, what we’ve got to have is something along
a new line, and I’m thinking it can’t be anything like a
gun, either. They’re onto that now.” He closed the
door to the inner office with a bang.
“By the way,” asked Gloria, “why don’t the Australi-
ans send some airplanes up there to the Catskills and
shoot up the Lassan he^idquarters ?”
“Didn’t you know?” asked Ben. “They tried it.
They dumped about a hundred tons of explosives all
over the joint, and it might have been so much mud for
all the good it did. Then they ran a railroad gun up
there and tried to shell the door, but that wasn’t any
good, either. They’ve got a signal station up there
watching, waiting for them to come out, and we’ll just
have to wait for that. Sherman” — he indicated the
door behind which the aviator had retired — “is nearly
bughouse. They’ve got his girl a prisoner in there.”
“Tough break,” commented Gloria. “Wish I could do
something for the lady.”
They talked about minor matters for a time, Ben
speaking absently and cudgeling his brains for a line
on which to work toward the new weapon. It is not
easy to sit down and plan out a new invention without
anything to start on beyond the desire to have it.
Suddenly, the inner door was flung open. In the
aperture they saw Sherman, his face grinning, a small
piece of metal in his hand.
“I’ve got it, folks!” he cried. "A gravity beam!”
CHAPTER XIX
The Gravity Beam
<< A GRAVITY beam!” they ejaculated together in
ZA tones varying from incredulity to simple puzzle-
X ment. “What’s that?”
“Well, it’ll take quite a bit of explaining, but I’ll drop
out the technical part of it. . . . You see, it’s like this —
You remember old man Einstein, the frizzy-hair Fri-
sian, demonstrated that magnetism and gravity are the
same thing down underneath? And that some of the
astronomers and physicists have said that both mag-
netism and light are the same thing? That is, forms
of vibration. Well, one of the things I picked up from
the lads in this Lassan city was that light, matter, elec-
tricity, gravitation, magnetism and the whole works,
are the same thing in different forms.
“They’ve just jumped one step beyond Einstein. Now,
they’ve got a way of producing, or mining, pure light,
that is, pure matter in its simplest form. When it’s re-
leased from pressure it becomes material and raises
hell all over the shop. How they get the squeeze on it,
I can’t say. Anyway, it isn’t important.”
“Very interesting lecture — very,” commented Gloria,
gravely.
“You pipe down and listen to your betters till they
get through,” Sherman went on. “Children should be
seen, not heard. But what I’ve got here is a piece of
permalloy. Under certain magnetic conditions it defies
gravity. Now if we can screen gravity that way, why
can’t we concentrate it, too?”
"Why not? Except that nobody ever did it and no-
body knows how,” said Ben Ruby.
“Well, here’s the catch. We can do anything we want
to with gravity if we go about it right. What is it in
chemical atoms that has weight? It’s the positive
charge, isn’t it? The nucleus. And it’s balanced by the
negative charges, the electrons, that revolve around it.
Now if we can find a way to pull some of these negative
charges loose from a certain number of atoms of a sub-
stance, there are going to be a whole lot of positive
charges floating around without anything to bite on.
And if we can shoot them at something, it’s going to
have more positive charges than it can stand. And when
that happens, the something is going to get awful heavy,
and there are going to be exchanges of negative charges
among all the positive charges, and things are going to
pop.”
“Yes, yes,” said Ben. “But what good does all this
do? Give us the real dope on how you’re going to
do it.”
“Well, with what I picked up from the Lassans, I
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
197
think I know. They know all about light and mechan-
ics, but they’re rotten chemists, and don’t realize how
good a thing they’ve got in lots of ways. Now look — if
you throw a beam of radiations from a cathode tube
into finely divided material you break up some of the
atoms. Well, all we have to do is get an extra-powerful
cathode tube, break up a lot of atoms, and then deliver
the positive charges from them onto whatever we’re
going for. That would be your gravity beam.”
“How are you going to get radiation powerful enough
to split up enough atoms to do you any good?” inquired
Ben.
“Easy. Use a radium cathode. The Lassans have
the stuff, but never think of using it seriously. They
think it’s an amusing by-product in their pure light
mines, and just play round with it. Nobody ever used
it before on earth, because it was too expensive for such
foolishness, but with so many less people around, we
can get some without too much trouble, I guess.”
“Mmm. Sounds possible,” said Ben. “That is, in
theory. I’d like to see it work in practice. How are
you going to throw this beam?”
“Cinch. Down a beam of light. Light will conduct
sound or radio waves even through a vacuum and this
stuff I’m sending isn’t so very different. Whatever we
hit will act as an amplifier and spread the effect through
the whole body.”
“Boy, you want to be careful you don’t blow up the
earth,” said Murray Lee. “Well, Gloria, I guess we’re
indicated to go out and dig up some radium. Let’s fool
them by going before they ask us. There ought to be
a supply in some of the hospitals.”
They rose and the other two plunged into an excited
and highly technical discussion. When they returned,
the workmen had already constructed a black box, not
unlike an enormous camera in shape, in the center of
the floor. At its back and attached to it, stood a stand
fitted with a series of enormous clamps. Ben and Sher-
man were at a bench, working blowpipes, and shaping
the delicate, iridescent glass of a long tube with a bulge
at its center.
“Here you are," said Murray Lee. “I had to row
with the Surgeon-General of the Dutch Colonial contin-
gent to get this. He wanted to use it on some tuber-
culosis experiment. But I convinced him that he
wouldn’t be worrying about ‘t. b.’ if the Lassans came
out of their hole and stood the army on its head. How
goes the job?”
“Swell,” said Sherman. “Now you children run along
and play. We’re busy. We won’t be finished with this
thing before tomorrow afternoon, if then.”
As a matter of fact it was the next evening before
Murray and Gloria were summoned back to the labora-
tory. The device they had seen was now mounted on
a stand of its own, with long ropes of electrical con-
nections running back from it, and had been pushed
back to the end of the room. Opposite it was another
stand with a two-foot square piece of sheet iron resting
on a chair in its center. The lens of the big camera
was pointed in that direction.
“Now,” said Sherman, “watch your uncle and see
what happens.”
H e turned a switch ; the tube at the back of the
apparatus lit up with a vivid violet glow and a
low humming sound filled the room.
“I decided to use powdered lead in the box,” he ex-
plained. “It is the heaviest metal there is available,
and gives us the largest number of nuclei to project.”
A second switch was thrown in and a beam of light
leaped from the camera and struck in the center of the
iron sheet, producing merely .a mild white illumination.
“Poof!” said Gloria. “That isn’t such a much. I
could do that with a flashlight.”
“Right you are. I haven’t let her go yet. Hold your
breath now.”
He bent over, drove a plunger home. For just a
second the only visible effect was a slight intensifica-
tion of the beam of light. Then there was a report
like a thunder-clap; a dazzling ball of fire appeared on
the stand; a cloud of smoke, and Murray and Gloria
found themselves sitting on the floor. The iron plate
had completely vanished; so had the chair, all but two
of its legs, which, lying in the center of the stand, were
burning brightly. The acrid odor of nitrogen dioxide
filled the room.
"Golly,” said Ben Ruby, seizing a fire extinguisher
from the wall and turning it on the blaze. “That’s even
more than we expected. Look, it made a hole right
through the wall! We’ll have to keep that thing tied
up.”
"I’ll say you will,” said Murray, helping Gloria up.
“It's as bad for the guy that’s using it as the one at the
other end. But seriously, you’ve got something good
there. What happened to the iron plate?”
“Disintegrated. Let’s see, where does iron come in
the periodic table, Ben? Twenty-six? Then you’ll prob-
ably find small quantities of all the chemical elements
from twenty-five down in that heap of ashes. Phooey,
what a rotten smell! That must be the action of the
beam on the nitrogen in the air.”
“There’s a lot to be worked out in this thing, yet,
though,” declared Ben, “and if you’re right about the
Lassans making a comeback, precious little time in
which to work it out. For one thing, we’ve got to get
a searchlight that will throw a narrow pencil of light
for a long distance. I don’t think those elephant-men are
going to let us poke this thing under their noses. And
for another we’ve got to dope out something to keep it
in and some way to furnish current for it. . . . ”
“Can’t you work it from a tank?” asked Murray, “and
rig up a friction accumulator to work from the tracks?”
“I can, but I don’t like the idea,” Sherman replied.
“From the way those Lassans took to our airplanes, I
could make a guess that when they come, they’re going
to come in some kind of flying machine. 'The dodos
are no good in modern war. We’d never catch any kind
of an airplane with a tank.”
“How about an airplane for yourselves?”
"Too unsteady and too frail. I want something that
will take a few pokes and not fold up.”
“Say, you guys have less ingenuity for a couple of
inventors than anyone I ever heard of,” Gloria put in.
“Why don’t you get one of these Australian rocket-
planes and fix it up. It’s big enough to hold all your
foolishness, and if this thing is half as powerful as it
looks, you ought to be able to harness it some way for
a power-plant. Then you can plaster your rocket all
over with armor. I think — ”
Sherman interrupted her by bringing his fist down
on the table with a bang that made the glasses rattle.
“You’ve got it! By the nine gods of Clusium! With
the punch this thing gives us used as a rocket, we’d
have power enough to fly to the moon if we wanted to.
Why a rocket airplane at all? Why not a pure rocket?
Let’s go.”
It was another week before workmen, even toiling
with all the machine-shop facilities of Philadelphia at
their disposal, and working day and night, could turn
out the machine to Sherman’s design, and it was two
more before the apparatus was installed. The trial trip
198
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
was set for the early morning when there would be least
chance of atmospheric disturbance.
The Monitor (she had been named for the famous
fighting craft with which the American navy ushered
in a new age in the history of war) now stood near the
center of the flying field at the Philadelphia airport — a
long, projectile-like vessel with gleaming metal sides,
set with heavy windows, ten feet in diameter and nearly
twice as long. At her stem a funnel-like opening led
to the interior. This was the exhaust for the power-
plant. At her bow the sharp nose was blunted off and
its tip was occupied by the lens of a high-powered para-
bolic searchlight, slightly recessed, and with the dis-
charge tubes for the atomic nuclei arranged around its
edge BO they would be thrown directly into the light-
beam as soon as generated.
As the four approached her she had been placed on
the ramp from which she was to start, slanting slightly
upward, with a buffer of timber and earth behind it,
to take up the enormous recoil her power plant was
expected to develop.
“How do you get in?” asked Gloria, walking around
the Monitor and discovering no sign of a door.
“Oh, that’s a trick I borrowed from our friends the
Lassans,” explained Sherman, “Look here.” He led
her to a place half way along one side, where two al-
most imperceptible holes marred the shining brightness
of the new vessel’s sides. “Stick your fingers in.”
S HE did as directed, pressed, and a wide door in the
side of the projectile swung open. “Bright thought.
No handles to break off.”
They stepped in, bending their heads to avoid the low
ceiling.
“She isn’t as roomy or comfortable or as heavily ar-
mored as the one I mean to build later,” explained
Sherman, “but this is only an experimental craft, built
in a hurry, so I had to take what I could get. ... Now
here, Murray you sit here. Your job is going to be to
mind the gravity beam that furnishes us our power.
Every time you get the signal from me, you throw this
power switch. That will turn on all three switches at
the stern, and shoot the gravity beam out for the ex-
haust. . . . You see, we can’t expect to keep up a steady
stream of explosions with this kind of a machine. We
wouldn’t be able to control it. We’ll travel in a series
of short hops through the air, soaring between hops,
like a glider.”
“How are you going to do any soaring without
wings?” asked Murray.
“We have wings. They fold into the body at the
back. I’ve made them automatic. When the power
switch is thrown the wings fold in; after the explosion
they come out automatically unless we disconnect them.
If we want to really go fast, we’ll disconnect them and
go through the air like a projectile.”
_ “Oh, I see. Will the windows stand the gaff?”
“I hope to tell you they will. I had them made of
fused quartz, with an outer plating of leaded glass, just
in case the Lassans try to get fresh with that light-ray
of theirs.
“Now, Gloria, you sit here. You’re the best shot in
the crowd, and it’s going to be your job to run that
searchlight in the prow. As soon as you pick up any-
thing with it, Ben will throw his switch, and whatever
is at the end of it will get a dose of pure protons. We’ll
have to do a good deal of our aiming by turning the
ship itself. I made the searchlight as flexible as I
could, but I couldn’t get a great deal of turn to it on
account of the necessity of getting the nuclei into the
light beam.”
“By the way,” asked Murray, “Won’t this pure light
armor of the Lassans knock your beam for a row of
ashcans ?”
“I should say not! If they use it, we’ve got ’em.
That stuff has weight and the minute this beam of ours
hits it, it will intensify the effect, and no matter how
much pressure they have on it, it will blow up all over
the place. . . . All set? Let’s go. Throw in your switch,
Murray.”
Murray did as directed. There was a humming sound
and the tiny beam of light leaped across the rear end
of the ship and out the exhaust. Across it fell a thin
powder of iron filings — the material that was to be de-
composed to furnish the power.
Bang! With a roar, the Monitor leaped forward,
throwing all of them back into their heavily padded
seats, then dipped and soared as the wings came into
play. The passengers glanced through the windows.
Beneath them the outskirts of Philadelphia were al-
ready speeding by.
“Say,” said Ben, “this is some bus. We must be
making five hundred miles an hour.”
“Sure,” said Sherman. “We could do over seven hun-
dred as a pure projectile, but we can’t use that much
speed and keep our maneuvering power.”
CHAPTER XX
The Coming of the Green Globes
YHERE to, folks?” asked Sherman, during
one of their periods of soaring, as they
V ▼ fioated high above the hilly country to the
west of the Delaware River.
“Oh, most anywhere,” said Ben. “I would like to see
you try out this new-fangled gun of yours on something,
though.”
“What shall we try it on? A house?”
“No, that’s too easy. We saw what it could do to
things like that in the laboratory. Find a nice rock.”
“O. K. Here goes. Don’t give her the gun for a
minute, Murray.”
With wings extended, the Monitor spiralled down to-
ward the crest of the mountain. A projecting cliff
stood just beneath them, sharply outlined in the rays of
the morning sun.
“Now this is going to be difficult,” warned Sherman.
“Throw that connecting bar, Ben. It holds the power
switch and the beam switch together so they’re both
turned on at once. Otherwise the recoil we’d get on
this end of the beam would tumble us over backward.
Hold it, while I set the controls. We’ve got to take a
jump as soon as we fire, or we’ll pop right into the mess
we make. . . . Ready? All right, Gloria, go ahead with
your searchlight.”
The beam of the searchlight shot out, pale in the
daylight, wavered a second, then outlined the crest of
the cliff.
“Shoot!” cried Sherman.
There was a terrific report; a shock; the Monitor
leaped, quivering in every part, and as they spiralled
down to see what damage they had done, they beheld
no cliff at all, but a rounded cup at the tip of the moun-
tain in which a mass of molten rock boiled and sim-
mered.
“Fair enough,” said Ben. “I guess that will do for
the Lassans, all right. Home, James?”
“Right,”answered Sherman. “We’ve found out all we
want to know this trip.”
The homeward journey was accomplished even more
swiftly than the trip northward as Sherman gained
in experience at the controls of the machine. As it
glided slowly to earth at the airport a little group of
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
199
officers was waiting to meet them.
“What in thunder have you been doing?” one of them
greeted the Americans. “Your static, or whatever it
was you let loose, burned out all the tubes in half the
army radio sets in New Jersey.”
“By the nine gods of Clusium!” said Sherman. “I
never thought of that. We’re reducing matter pretty
much to its lowest terms, and it’s all a good deal alike
on that scale — vibrations that may be electricity, mag-
netism, light or matter. Of course, when we let go that
shot there was enough radiation to be picked up on
Mars. I’ll have to figure out a way to get around that.
Those Lassans are no bums as electricians and after
we’ve been at them once or twice, they’ll be able to pick
up our radiation whenever we’re coming and duck us.”
“There’s another thing,” said Ben. “I thought the
Monitor vibrated a good deal when you let that shot
go.”
“It did. We’ll have to get more rigidity or we’ll
be shaking ourselves to pieces every time we shoot. But
this, as I said, is an
experimental ship.
What we’ve got to do
now is turn in and
build a real one, with
heavy armor and a
lot of new tricks.”
“How are you go-
ing to know what
kind of armor to put
on her?”
“That’s easy. Steel
will keep out any kind
of material projec-
tiles they’re likely to
have, if it’s thick
enough. It won’t keep
out the light-ray, but
we’ll put on a thin
lead plating to take
care of that, just in
case, though I don’t
think they’re likely to
try it after the one
failure.
“Then inside the
steel armor, we’ll put
a vacuum chamber.
That will stop any-
thing but light and
maybe cosmic radia-
tion, and I don’t think
they’re up to that, al-
though we’ll get a
little of the effect
through the struts
that support the outer
wall of the chamber.
What I would like
though, is a couple of
these Lassan thought-
helmets. Not that you people are slow on the uptake,
but we’d be a lot faster if we had them, and we’re
going to need all the speed we can get.”
They were crossing the flying field as they spoke,
making for headquarters, where Sherman presently
laid out the design for the second Monitor, embodying
the improvements he had mentioned. The engineer who
looked it over smiled doubtfully.
“I don’t think we can give this to you in less than
three or four weeks,” he said. “It will take a lot of time
to cast that armor you want and to build the vacuum
chamber. I assume your own workmen are going to
make the internal fixtures.”
“Correct from the word go,” Sherman told him. “But
you better have it before three or four weeks are up.
Ben, what do you say we run over to the lab and see if
we can dig up something new.”
I T WAS two days later when they stood at headquar-
ters on the flying field again. The Monitor had made
three more trips, on one of them, flying over the Lassan
city without seeing anything more important than the
Australian signal station perched on a nearby hill.
Meanwhile the army of the federated governments had
pushed out its tentacles, searching the barren waste
that had been the most fruitful country in the world.
East, west, south and north the report was the same;
no sign of the Lassans or any other living thing.
“I could wish,” said Gloria, “that those lads would
stick their noses out. I’d like to try the Monitor on
them.”
“You’ll get all you
want of that,” said
Ben a trifle grimly.
“I’m glad they’re giv-
ing us this much of a
break. It let’s us get
things organized.
Sherman is monkey-
ing with a light-pow-
er motor now. If he
catches it, our trou-
bles will be over.”
“Wait a minute,”
called an officer at a
desk, as a telegraph
key began tapping.
“This looks like some-
thing.” Ho translat-
ed the dots and dashes
for them. “Lassan —
city — door — opening.
. . . It’s from the sig-
nal station on that
mountain right over
it. . . Big — ball — com-
ing out — will — will —
what’s this ? The mes-
sage seems to end.”
He depressed the key
vigorously and then
waited. It remained
silent.
“Oh, boy,” said
Sherman, “there she
goes! They got that
signal station. I’ll
bet a dollar to a ton
of Lassan radiation.”
The officer was
hammering the key
again. “We’re sending out airplane scouts now,” he
said. “Too bad about the signal station, but that’s warl”
“Come on, gang,” said Ben. “Let’s get out to the
flying field. Looks like we’re going to be in demand.”
In a car borrowed from the headquarters staff they
raced out to the field where the Monitor stood, ready
on its ramp for any emergency. Just as they arrived
an airplane became visible, approaching from the north.
It circled the field almost as though the pilot were
afraid to land, then dipped and came to a slow and
(Keystone Photos)
This shows that Mr. Pratt’s conception of the elephant-men is not so
far-fetched. This photo is Ganesha, a Hindu god, patron of art and lit-
erature. Ganesha symbolizes to the Hindus wisdom and knowledge.
200
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
hesitating stop. The onlookers noticed that Its guy
wires were sagging, its wheels uneven; It looked like
a wreck of a machine which had not been flown for ten
years, after it had lain in some hangar where it received
no attention at all.
As they ran across the field toward it, the pilot
climbed slpwly out. They noticed that his face was
pale and horror-struck, his limbs shaking.
“All gone,” he cried to the oncoming group.
“What? Who? What’s the matter?”
“Everything. Guns. Tanks. Airplanes. The big
ball’s got ’em. Almost got — ” and he collapsed in Ben’s
arms in a dead faint.
“Here,” said Ben, handing the unconscious aviator to
one of the Australian officers. “Come on. There’s
something doing up there. Big balls, eh? Well, we’ll
make footballs of ’em. That chap looks as though he’d
been through a milling machine, though. The Lassans
tertainly must have something good.”
With a shattering crash as Murray Lee gave her
all the acceleration she would take, the Monitor left the
ramp, soared once or twice to gain altitude, and headed
north amid a chorus of explosions. In less than ten
minutes the thickly-settled districts of northern New
Jersey were flowing past beneath them.
“Wish we had some radio in this bus,” remarked Ben
Ruby. “We could keep in touch with what’s going on,”
"It would be convenient,” said Sherman, “but you
can’t have everything. The Lassans aren’t going to
wait for us to work out all our problems. . . . Look —
what’s that over there?”
At nearly the same level as themselves and directly
over the city of Newark a huge globular object, not un-
like an enormous green cantaloupe, appeared to float
in the air. From its under side the thin blue beam of
some kind of ray reached to the ground. From the face
turned diagonally away from them a paler, wider beam,
yellowish in color, reached down toward the buildings
of the city. And where it fell on them, they collapsed
into shattering ruin ; roof piled on walls, chimneys tum-
bled to the ground. There was no flame, no smoke, no
sound — just that sinister monster moving slowly along,
demolishing the city of Newark almost as though it
were by an effort of thought.
"Hold tight, everybody,” cried Sherman. "Going up.”
The Monitor slanted skyward. Through the heavy
quartz of her windows they could see a battery of field
guns, cleverly concealed behind some trees in the out-
skirts of the city, open fire. At the first bursts the
monster globe swung slowly round, the pale yellow ray
cutting a swath of destruction as it moved. The shells
of the second burst struck all around and on it. "Oh,
good shooting,” said Gloria, but even as she spoke the
yellow ray bore down like a fate and the guns became
silent.
“What have they got?” she shouted between the
bursts of the Monitor’s rocket motor.
“Don’t know,” replied Sherman, “but it’s good.
Ready? Here goes. Cut off, Murray.”
From an altitude of 16,000 feet the Monitor swept
down in a long curve. As she dived Gloria swung the
searchlight beam toward the green globe.
“Go!” shouted Sherman, and Ben threw the switch.
There was a terrific explosion, the Monitor pitched
wildly, then, under control swung round and began to
climb again. Through the thinning cloud of yellow
smoke, they could see a long black scar across the
globe’s top, with lines running out from it, like the
wrinkles on an old, old face.
“Damn!” said Sherman. “Only nicked him. They
must have something good in the line of armor on that
thing. Look how it stood up. Watch it, everybody,
we’re going to go again, Gloria!”
Again the searchlight beam swung out and down,
sought the green monster. But this time the Lassan
globe acted more quickly. The yellow ray lifted, probed
for them, caught them in its beam. Instantly, the occu-
pants of the Monitor felt a racking pain in every joint;
the camera-boxes of the gravity-beam trembled in their
racks, the windows, set in solid steel though they were,
shook in their frames, the whole body of the rocket-ship
seemed about to fall apart.
D esperately Sherman strove with the controls;
dived, dodged, then finally, with a raised hand to
warn the rest, side-slipped and tumbled toward the
earth, pulling out in a swinging curve with all power
on — a curve that carried them a good' ten miles away
before the yellow ray could find them.
“Boy!” said Murray Lee, feeling of himself. "I feel
as though every joint in my body were loose. What
was that, anyway?”
“Infra-sound,” replied Sherman. “You can’t hear it,
but it gets you just the same. Like a violinist and a
glass. He can break it if he hits the right note. I told
you those babies would get something hot. They must
have found a way to turn tha’ pure light of theirs into
pure sound and vibrate it on every note of the scale all
at once, beside a lot the scale never heard of. Well,
now we know.”
“And so do they,” said Ben. “That bozo isn’t going
to hang around and take another chance on getting
mashed with our gravity beam. Even if we did only tip
him. I’ll bet we hurt him plenty.”
“All I’ve got to say,” replied Sherman, “is that I’m
glad we’re made of metal instead of flesh and blood.
If that infra-sound ray had hit us before, we’d be
mashed potatoes in that field down there. No wonder
the sign^ station went out so quick.”
“Do we go back and take another whack at them?”
asked Murray Lee,
“I don’t like to do it with this ship,” Sherman re-
plied. “If we had the Monitor II it would be easy. With
that extra vacuum chamber around her, she’ll take quite
a lot of that infra-sound racket. Vacuum doesn’t con-
duct sound you know, though we’d get some of it
through the struts. But this one — . Still I suppose
we’ll have to show them we mean business.”
The Monitor turned, pointed her lean prow back to-
ward Newark, and bore down. In their flight from the
infra-sound ray the Americans had dived behind a
fluffy mass of low-hanging cloud; now they emerged
from it, they could see the huge green ball, far up the
river, retreating at its best speed.
“Aha,” Sherman said. “He doesn’t like gravity beams
on the coco. Well, come on, giddyap horsey. Give her
the gun, Murray.”
Under the tremendous urge of the gravity-beam ex-
plosions at her tail, the Monitor shot skyward, leaving
a trail of orange puffs in her wake as the beam decom-
posed the air where it struck it. Sherman lifted her
behind the clouds, held the course for a moment, called
“Ready, Gloria?” and then dropped.
Like a swooping hawk, the Monitor plunged from her
hiding place. Sherman had guessed aright. The green
ball was not five miles ahead of them, swinging over
the summits of the Catskills to reach its home. As they
plunged down the yellow ray came on, stabbed quickly,
once, twice, thrice — caught them for a brief second of
agonizing vibration, then lost them again as Sherman
twisted the Monitor round. Then Gloria’s beam struck
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
201
the huge globule fair and square, Ben Ruby threw
the switch, and a terrific burst of orange flame swal-
lowed the whole center of the Lassan monster.
Prepared though they were for the shock, the force
of the explosion threw the ship out of control. It gy-
rated frantically, spinning up, down and sidewise, as
Sherman worked the stick. The Catskills reared up
at them; shot past in a whirl of greenery; then with
a splash they struck the surface of the Hudson.
Fortunately, the Monitor’s wings were extended, and
took up most of the shock at the cost of being shattered
against her sides. Through the beam-hole at the stern
the water began to flow into the interior of the ship.
“Give her the gun!” called Sherman frantically, work-
ing his useless controls. There was a report, a shock,
a vivid cloud of steam, and dripping and coughing like
a child that has swallowed water in haste, the Monitor
rose from the stream, her broken wings trailing be-
hind her.
“I don’t know — whether — I can fly — ^this crate or
not,” said Sherman, trying to make what was left of
the controls work. "Shoot, Murray — if we put on
enough power — we won’t have to soar.” There was a
renewed roar of explosions from the Monitor. Desper-
ately, swinging in a wide curve that carried her miles
out of her way, she turned her nose southwards.
“Make Philly,” cried Sherman cryptically, above the
sound .of the explosions that were driving their craft
through the air at over six hundred miles an hour.
Almost as he said it, they saw the airport beneath them.
The Monitor swerved erratically ; the explosions ceased ;
she dived, plunged and slithered to a racking stop
across the foreshore of the seaplane port, ending up
with a crash against a float, and pitched all four occu-
pants from their seats onto the floor.
“Well, that’s one for you and one for me,” said Sher-
man as he surveyed the wreckage ruefully. “We used
up that green ball all right, but the old Monitor will
never pop another one. Did anyone notice whether
there were any pieces left, by the way ?”
“I did,” said Gloria. “As we came up out of the
water I could see a few hunks lying around on the
hill.”
“Mmm,” remarked Sherman, "they must be built
pretty solid. Wish I knew what was in them; that’s
one thing I never did get through that thought-helmet.
Probably something they just figured out. You gave
her all the power we had, didn’t you?”
"There’s something else I’d like to know,” said Ben.
“And that’s whether they had time to warn the rest
of the Lassans what they were up against. If they
did, we stand a chance. The way I have these guys
figured is that they’re good, but they have a yellow
streak, or maybe they’re just lazy, and they don’t like
to fight unless they’re sure of winning. If I’m right
we’ll have time to get Monitor II into commission and
before they come out again, we’ll be ready for them.
If I’m wrong we might as well find a nice hole some-
where and pull it in after us.”
“Yes, and on the other hand, if they did have time
to warn them, they’ll sit down and dope out some new
trick. Though I have a hunch they won’t find an an-
swer to that gravity-beam so easily. There isn’t any
that I know of.”
“Well, anyway,” said Murray Lee, "nothing to do till
tomorrow. What are you two rummies up to now?”
“Run up and push them along on Monitor II if we
can,” replied Ben. “I think I’ll round up the rest of
the mechanical Americans and put you all to work on it.
We can work day and night and get it done a lot
quicker.”
"Me,” said Sherman, "I’m going to figure out some
way to install radio on that new bus or bust a button.
That’s one thing we ought not to do without. If we’d
known the position of that green lemon before we saw
it, we could have dived out of the clouds on it and
made it the first shot before we got all racked up with
that yellow ray.”
CHAPTER XXI
Reinforcements
T he little group separated, going about their sev-
eral tasks. From whatever cause, Ben proved
to be right about the Lassan green spheres.
After that one brief incursion, in which they had
wrecked the greater part of Newark and most of the
artillery the Australians had established to bear on
the door of the Lassan city, they seemed to have re-
turned to their underground home, realizing that the
earth-men still had weapons the equal of anything the
creatures of Rigel could produce.
For a whole week there was no sign of them. Mean-
while, the federated army dug itself in and prepared
for the attack that was now believed certain. The
success of the first Monitor had been great enough, it
was decided to warrant the construction of more than
one of the second edition. General Grierson wished
to turn the whole resource of the Allied armies to
building an enormous number, but under Ben’s persua-
sion he consented to concentrate on only five.
For, as Ben pointed out to the general, the training
of flesh and blood men for these craft would be labor
lost.
"They couldn't stand the acceleration that will be
necessary, for one thing. With Monitor II we expect
to be able to work up swiftly to over a thousand miles
an hour, and the most acceleration a flesh and blood
man can stand won’t give us that speed quickly enough.
Of course, we could make ’em so they worked up speed
slowly, but then they wouldn’t be able to cut down fast
enough to maneuver. And for another thing this
infra-sound ray the Lassans project would kill a flesh-
and-blood man the first time it hit him. What we
need for this kind of war, is supermen in the physical
sense. I don’t want to make any such snooty state-
ment as that Americans are better than other people,
but we happen to be the only ones who have under-
gone this mechanical operation and we’re the only peo-
ple in the world who can stand the gaff. You’ll just
have to let us make out the best we can. In fact, it
might be better for you to re-embark the army and
leave us to fight it out all alone. The more women we
have here, the more we’ll have to protect.”
The general had been forced to agree to the first
part of this statement, but he gallantly refused to
abandon the Americans, though he did send away men,
troops and guns which had become useless in this new
brand of warfare. But he insisted on retaining a force
to run the factories that supplied the Americans with
their materials and on personally remaining with it.
Even as it stood, there were only fourteen of the
mechanical Americans remaining — enough to man three
of the Monitors.
But one day, as Monitor II, shining with newness,
stood on her ramp having the searchlights installed,
Herbert Sherman came dashing across the flying field,
waving a sheet of paper.
"I’ve got it,” he cried, "I’ve got it! I knew I got
something from those Lassans about electricity that I
hadn’t known before, and now I know what it is. Look!”
“Radio?” queried Ben.
2Q2 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
“No, read it,” said Sherman. “Radio’s out. But
this is a thousand times better.”
He extended the sheet to Ben, who examined the
maze of figures gravely for a moment.
“Now suppose you interpret,” he said. “I can’t
read Chinese.”
“Sap. This is the formula for the electrical device
I was talking about.”
“Yeh. Well, go on, spill it.”
“Well, I suppose I’ll have to explain so even your
limited intelligence will grasp the point. ... In our
black box, we’ve been breaking up the atoms of lead
into positive and negative charges. We’ve been using
the positive, and then just turning the negative loose.
This thing will make use of both, and give us a swell
new weapon all at once.
“Look — ^the negative charges will do for our gravity
beam just as well as the positive. They will create an
excess of negative electrons instead of an excess of posi-
tive protons in the object we hit, and cause atomic dis-
integration. It’s a gravity process just the same, but
a different one. Now that gives us something else to
do with the positives.
“You know what a Leyden jar is? One of those
things you charge with electricity, then you touch the
tip, and bang, you get a shock. Well, this arrangement
will make a super-Leyden jar of the Monitor. Every
time she fires the gravity-beam, the positive charges
will be put into her hull, and she’ll soon be able to
load up with a charge that will knock your eye out
when it’s let loose.”
“How’s that? I know the outside of the Monitor
is covered with lead and so is the outside of a Leyden
jar, but what’s the connection?”
“Well, it’s this way. When you load up a Leyden
jar the charge is not located in the plating, but in the
glass. Now the Monitor has a lot of steel, which will
take up the charge just as well as glass. As soon as
she fires the gravity-beam, these filaments will load
her up with the left-over positives till she grunts.
See?”
“And since the earth is building up a lot of negative
potential all the time, all you have to do is get your
bird between you and the earth and then let go at
him?”
“That’s the idea. It’ll make an enormous spark-gap,
and whatever is between us and the earth will get the
spark. Sock them with a flash of artificial lightning.
We’ll use the light-beam as a conductor just as with
the gravity-beam.”
“Sounds good, but I want to see the wheels go round.
How much of a potential do you think you can build
up in the Monitor?’’
“Well, let’s see. We’ve got two thicknesses of nine-
inch steel . . . volts to a cubic inch ... by cubic inches.
. . . Holy smoke, look how this figures out — over eleven
million volts! That’s theory, of course. There’ll be
some leakage in practice and we won’t have time to
build up that much negative potential every time we
shoot, but if we only do half that well, we’ll have a
pretty thorough-going charge of lightning . . . Peterson,
come over here. I want you to make some changes
on this barge.”
M onitor II stood on the ramp that had once held
her elder sister, her outer coating of lead glim-
mering dully in the morning sun. Here and there,
along her shining sides, were placed the windows
through which her crew would watch the progress of
the battle. Her prow was occupied by the same type
of searchlight the earlier Monitor had borne. But this
time the searchlight was surrounded by a hedge of
shining silver points — the discharge mechanism for the
lightning flash. At the stern, instead of the opening
running right through into the ship, was a tight bulk-
head, with the connections for the gravity-beam rock-
et-mechanism leading through it. As Sherman had
pointed out, “If this lightning is going to do us any
good, we’ve got to get above our opponent, and those
Lassans have built machines that made interplanetary
voyages. We’ve got to make this boat air-tight so that
we can go right after them as far as Rigel if neces-
sary,”
It had been decided, in view of the other monitors
that were building, to make the trial trip of the second
rocket-cruiser also a training voyage, with Beeville
and Yoshio replacing Murray Lee and Gloria in her
crew. They climbed in ; the spectators stood back, and
with a thunderous rush of explosions and a cloud of
yellow gas, the second Monitor plunged into the blue.
“Where shall we go?” asked Sherman, as the ship
swooped over the plains of New Jersey.
“How much speed is she making?” asked Ben Ruby.
“I don’t know exactly. We didn’t have time to in-
vent and install a reliable speed gauge. But — ” he
glanced at the map before him, then down through
the windows at the surrounding country. “I should
say not far short of eight hundred an hour. That im-
proved box sure steps up the speed. I’m not giving her
all she’ll stand, even yet.”
“If you’ve got that much speed, why don’t you visit
Chicago?” asked Beeville. “The Australians have only
pushed out as far as Ohio and there may be some peo-
ple there.”
"Bright thought,” remarked Sherman, swinging the
prow of the vessel westward. “No telling what we’ll
find, but it’s worth a look, anyway.”
For some time there was silence in the cabin as the
rocket-ship, with alternate roar and swoop, pushed
along. Yoshio was the first to speak:
“Ah, gentlemen,” he remarked, “I observe beneath
window trace of city of beer, formerly Cincinnati.”
“Sure enough,” said Ben, peering down. “There
doesn’t seem to be much beer there now, though.”
The white city of the Ohio vanished beneath them,
silent and deserted, no sign of motion in its dead
streets.
“You know,” said Sherman, “sometimes when I see
these cities and think of all the Lassans have wrecked,
it gives me an ache. I think I’d do almost anything to
knock them out. What right did they have to come to
this country or this earth, anyway? We were letting
them alone.”
“Same right wolf obtains when hungry,” said Yoshio.
“Wolf is larger than rabbit — end of rabbit.”
"Correct,” agreed Beeville. “They were the strong-
est. It’s a case of hit or be hit in this universe. Our
only out is to give them better than they give us.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Ben Ruby, “it may be a
good thing for the old world at that. You never heard
of all the governments of the world cooperating before
as they are now did you? There are still people alive
you know. Civilization hasn’t been killed off by a long
shot. And the lousy blue coloring that affected all the
people who didn’t get metallized isn’t going to be per-
manent. The babies that are being born there now are
normal, I hear. In a few generations the earth will be
back to where it was, except for us. I don’t know of
any way to reverse this metal evolution.”
"Neither do I,” said Beeville, “unless we can get
another dose of the ‘substance of life’ as the Lassans
203
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
call it, and we won’t get that unless they decide to
leave the earth in a hurry.”
“Look," said Sherman, “there’s Chicago now. But
what’s that? No, there, along the lake front.”
Following the direction of his pointing finger they
saw something moving vaguely along Lake Shore Bou-
levard ; something that might be a car — or a man !
“Let’s go down and see,” offered Ben.
“0. K. chief, but we’ve got to pick a good landing
place for this tub. I don’t want to get her marooned
in Chicago.”
T he explosions were cut off, the wings extended,
and Sherman spiralled carefully downward to the
spot where they had seen the moving object. With the
nicety of a magician, he brought the ship to a gliding
stop along the park grass, and followed by the rest,
Ben Ruby leaped out. The edge of the drive was a few
yards away. As they emerged from the ship no one
was visible, but as they walked across the grass, a
figure, metallic like themselves, and with a gun in one
hand, stepped from behind a tree.
“Stand back!” it warned suspiciously. “Who are you
and what do you want?”
“Conversation with sweet-looking gentleman,” said
Yoshio politely, with a bow,
"Why, we’re members of the American air force,”
said Ben, “cooperating with the federated armies
against the Lassans, and we were on an exploring ex-
pedition to see if we could find any more Americans.”
“Oh,” said the figure, with evident relief. “All right,
then. Come on out, boys.”
From behind other trees in the little park, a group of
metallic figures, all armed, rose into sight.
“My name’s Ben Ruby,” said Ben, extending his hand,
“at present General commanding what there is of the
American army,”
“Mine’s Salsinger. I suppose you could call me May-
or of Chicago since those birds got Lindstrom. So
you’re fighting the Lassans, eh? Good. We’d like to
take a few pokes at them ourselves, but that light-ray
they have is too much for us. All we can do is pot the
birds."
"Oh,” said Ben, "we’ve got that beat and a lot of
other stuff, too. How many of you are there?”
"Eight, including Jones, who isn’t here now. Where
are you from, anyway? St. Louis?”
“No, New York, Is anybody alive in St. Louis or
the other western cities?”
“There was. We had one man here from St. Paul,
and Gresham was from St. Louis. The birds got him
and carried him off to the joint the Lassans have in the
Black Hills, but he got away.”
“Have they a headquarters in the Black Hills, too?
They have one in the Catskills. That’s where we’ve
been fighting them.”
The explanations went on. It appeared that Chicago,
St. Louis and other western cities had been over-
whelmed as had New York — the same rush of light
from the great comet, the same unconsciousness on
every side, the same awakening and final gathering
together of the few individuals who had been fortu-
nate enough to attract the attentions of the Lassans’
birds and so be sent to their cities for transformation
into robots.
Since that time the birds had raided Chicago and the
other western cities unceasingly, and had reduced the
original company of some thirty-odd to the eight indi-
viduals whom Ben had encountered. Before the birds
had attacked them, however, they had managed to get a
telegraph wire in operation and learn that people were
alive at Los Angeles — whether mechanized or not they
were uncertain, but they thought not.
Once, several weeks before, a Lassan fighting-ma-
chine had passed through the city, wrecked a few
buildings with the light-ray, and disappeared westward
as rapidly as it had come.
With some diflSculty and a good deal of crowding the
eight Chicagoans were gotten into the Monitor II for
the return journey. They were a most welcome rein-
forcement and would furnish enough Americans to man
all five of the extra rocket-cruisers.
"I hope,” remarked Sherman, a couple of days later,
“that those Lassans don’t come out quite yet, now.
We’ve got the ships to meet them now, but the person-
nel isn’t as well trained as I should like. Salsinger
nearly smashed up one of the ships yesterday making
his landing and one of the wings on another cracked
up this morning when Roberts tried to turn too short.
These rocket-ships are so fast you need a whole state
to handle them in.”
“And I,” replied Ben Ruby, “hope they come out
damn soon. As you say, we’ve got the ships now, but
they’re not so slow themselves, and with the building
methods they have, they can turn out ships faster than
we can.”
“All the same, I’d like a few days more,” Sherman
countered. “In this brand of war it isn’t how much
you’ve got, but what you’ve got that counts. Look at
all the Australians — half a million men, and the only
good they are is to work in factories.”
“Can’t blame them for not being made of metal like
us,” said Ben. “They’re doing their best and we
wouldn’t be here but for them. Grierson is having the
shops build us another ten rocket-cruisers, on the chance
that we pick up some reinforcements somewhere in the
west.”
“Good,” said Sherman, “and I have another idea. I
think we ought to keep at least one monitor on patrol
over the Lassan city all the time. They’re apt to get
out and sneak one over on us. She can stay high up,
near the edge of the atmosphere. Of course, she can’t
radio, but she can fire a couple of shots if she sights
them coming out, and we can make a static detector that
will register the disturbance. Then we can catch them
as fast as they come out, when they’ll be easiest to at-
tack.”
“How about the other Lassan city out in the Black
Hills?” asked Ben.
“Would be bad strategy to try to handle them both at
once, wouldn’t it,” said Sherman, “Still, if you think
so . . .”
CHAPTER XXII
The Great Conflict
I T WAS Monitor VII, manned by the Chicagoans,
which had the honor of sighting the enemy. Just
as the twilight of a bright May day was closing
down over the radio men at the Philadelphia airi)ort,
the static detector marked an unusual disturbance, then
two quick shocks, which must have come from the pa-
trol’s bow beam. In quick succession, the other five,
standing ready on their starting ramps, took in their
crews, and roared up and away in a torrent of explo-
sions at a thousand miles an hour.
Soaring to fifty thousand feet above the earth, the
squadron of rocket-ships made its way north. Monitor
II in the lead.
“Well, here we go,” called Gloria, gaily, from her
seat behind the searchlight. “Hope they don’t give
us the run-around this time.”
“They won’t have the chance,” said Ben, “That is,
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
provided those Chicago boys have sense enough to re-
member their instructions and let them alone till we all
get there. With six of these ships we ought to be able
to rough ’em up a little bit.”
At a speed of over a thousand miles an hour, thanks
to the thinness of the atmosphere through which they
were traveling, it was only a few minutes' hop from
Philadelphia to the Catskill city of the elephant-men.
Ben had hardly finished speaking before Sherman called
from the control seat, “There they are!’
Far beneath, half revealed, half-hidden by the few
tiny clouds of fleece that hung at the lower altitudes,
they could see the naked scar in the hills that marked
the Lassan headquarters. Around it floated half a
Behind them something fell with a crash; ape
men ran gibbering with fright.
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dozen of the huge green balls they had encountered on slowly out from the enormous door, swung to and fro
the last occasion. As they swept by, another one, look- for a second or two and then swam up to join those al-
ing like a grape at the immense distance, trundled ready in the sky. Monitor VII was to the north and
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
205
above them — as she perceived the American fleet she
swept down to join the formation, falling into her pre-
arranged place.
“Do we go now?” asked Sherman.
“Not yet,” said Ben. “Give them all a chance to get
out. The more the merrier. I’d like to flnish the job this
time. We can’t get in that door, and if we did the
rocket-ships would be no use to us in those passages,
and they’re the best w'e’ve got. Besides they’re play-
ing snooty too, and aren’t paying a bit of attention to
us. I hope they intend to flght it out to a finish this
time.”
They turned north, giving the Lassans time to assem-
ble their fleet. “What’s the arrangement?” asked Gloria.
“Do we all go for them at once?”
“No. We dive in first and the rest follow behind,
pulling up before they get in range. If anything hap-
pens to us, they’ll rescue us — if they can. You see we
don’t know what they’ve got any more than they know
what we’ve got, and I thought it would be a good idea
to try the first attack with only one ship. In a pinch
the rest can get away — if the Lassans haven’t developed
a lot of speed on those green eggs of theirs.”
“How many now?” asked Sherman, from the controls,
as the squadron swung back southward and the scarred
mountain swam over the horizon again.
“Two — five — nine — eleven — oh, I can’t count them
all,” said Gloria, “they keep changing formation so.
There’s a lot of them and they’re coming up toward us,
but slowly. They haven’t got that blue beam at the
base any more, either — you know the one that globe
we got after was riding on.”
As they approached it was indeed evident that the
green globes were rising slowly through the twilight
in some kind of loose formation. It was too complex
for the American observers to follow in the brief
glimpses they were vouchsafed as they swept past at
hurricane speed. There seemed to be dozens of the
Lassan globes; as though they expected to overwhelm
opposition by mere force of numbers. Nearer and near-
er came the rocket-ships, nearer and nearer loomed the
sinister Lassan globes, betraying no signs of life, si-
lent and ominous.
“Go?” called Sherman from his seat at the controls.
“Gol” said Ben.
The Monitor II dived ; and as she dived, Gloria Ruth-
erford switched on the deadly beam of the searchlight
which would carry the gravity-beam against their ene-
mies. For a moment it sought the green globes; then
caught one fairly. Ben Ruby threw the switch; and
down the light beam leaped the terrible stream of the
broken atoms like a wave of death. Leaped — and
failed !
F or as it struck the green globe, instead of the
rending explosion and the succeeding collapse, there
came only a bright handful of stars, a coruscating dis-
play of white fire that dashed itself around the Lassan
ship like foam on some coast-rock. It reeled backward,
driven from its position under the tremendous shock
of the sundered atoms, but it remained intact.
“Well, I’m a son-of-a-gun!” declared Sherman, as he
put the Monitor into a spiral climb at nine hundred
miles an hour to avoid any counter-attack. “If they
haven’t found a gravity screen ! I didn’t think it was
possible. Goes to show you you never can tell, especially
with Lassans. Look out folks, here comes the gaff. I’m
going to loop!”
For as he spoke the formation of green globes had
opened out — swiftly by ordinary standards, though
slowly in comparison with the frantic speed of the
American rocket-vessel. From half a dozen of them the
racking yellow ray of infra-sound leaped forth to seek
the audacious ship that had attacked them single-
handed. All round her they stabbed the atmosphere,
striking the few clouds and driving them apart in a fine
spray of rain, but missing the Monitor as she twisted
and heaved at frantic speed.
Twenty miles away and high in the air they pulled
up to recover themselves.
“And that,” Sherman went on with his interrupted
observation, "explains why they aren’t using those blue
beams for support any more. Of course a gravity
screen that would work against our beam would work
against the gravity of the earth just as well. They
must have some way of varying its effect, though. They
aren’t rising very fast and haven’t got much speed.”
“Probably the Lassans can’t stand the acceleration,”
suggested Murray.
“Probably you’re right. They can’t have less than
one Lassan in each globe. ... Of course, they might con-
trol them by radio, with the thought-helmets and have
the crews all robots, but that wouldn’t be a Lassan way
of doing things. And I doubt if they’d think radio
safe, anyhow, even if they know about it, of which I’m
not sure. We’re shedding any amount of static around,
and would play merry hell with most any radio. Wish
I knew how they worked that gravity screen, though.
I’ll bet a boat-load of Monitors against a thought-helmet
that it’s magnetic.”
“Wish we had some way to signal the rest of the
fleet,” said Ben, as they swung into their position at
the head of the formation again. “I don’t want them
pushing in there with the gravity-beam if it isn’t going
to do any good.”
Murray laughed. “They’ll find it out soon enough.
I think we’ve got plenty speed to beat those infra-sound
rays, too. If that’s as strong as they come, we’ve got
’em licked.”
“Don’t crow yet, boy friend,” said Gloria. “You don’t
know what those babies have up their sleeves — excuse
me, their trunks.”
As the American fleet formed for a mass attack, the
Lassan globes had been rising, and now they were a
bare five thousand feet below the rocket-cruisers, swing-
ing along at a height of 25,000 feet above the earth in
the last rays of the setting sun. As the green globes
rose they took their places in a formation like an enor-
mous crescent, the ends of which were extended as each
new globe came up to join it.
“Looks like they want to get us in the middle and
pop us from all directions at once,” observed Sherman.
“Well, here goes. Pick the end of the line; that’s our
best chance. How’s your potential, Gloria?”
“0. K., chief,” she answered. “Lightning this time?”
He nodded. The rockets of the Monitor II roared;
its prow dipped forward, and at an incredible speed it
swept down on the line of Lassan warships, followed
by the rest of the American fleet. But it was no sur-
prise this time. As the monitors plunged in, from every
green globe that could bring them to bear, the long
yellow rays shot forth. Right through them the 3fow-
itor II plunged; the grate of it, even through their
double coating of armor and the vacuum chambers, set
their teeth on edge; then the rocket-ship was pointing
directly down at one of the Lassans and Gloria snapped
the key that released the artificial lightning.
A jagged beam of flame, intenser than the hottest
furnace, leaped through the air, struck the green globe,
and sought the earth in a thousand tiny rivulets of
light. For just a second the globe seemed unharmed;
then slowly, and almost majestically, it began to dissolve
206 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
in mid-air, spouting flames at every pore. Fully ten
miles down and beyond, the Monitor turned again, and
not till then did the sound of the explosion reach them,
a terrific, rending thunder-clap.
"See that?” cried Sherman. "That formation of
theirs isn’t so dumb. They’ve got it all ranged out;
none of our ships can get at them without coming
through at least one of those yellow rays, and if we
stay in them too long — blooie!”
They peered through the windows at the formation.
Off at one side, they could make out the forms of two
more rocket-ships, outlined against the sky, while be-
hind and above them pursued by the searching yellow
beams, came the rest. As they turned, they saw the
gravity-beam shoot from one of the American ships,
crumple uselessly against a green globe. Then they
plunged In, again, firing the gravity beam earthward
to work up the potential for another lightning discharge.
T he hills below rocked and roared to the repeated
shock. Trees fell in crashing ruin as lightning-
bolt or infra-sound shivered them to bits ; great cars of
burned earth and molten rock marked the spots where
the gravity-beam struck the ground. All round was a
maze of yellow rays, lightning flashes, and green globes
that reeled, rose, fell, sometimes blowing up, sometimes
giving ground, but always fighting back sternly and
vigorously and always rising through the clear spring
evening.
Murray Lee, at the rear of the ship, was the only one
to see an American rocket-ship, caught and held for a
few fatal moments by two yellow rays, slowly divest
itself of its outer armor, then of its inner, and go
whirling to the earth, dissolved into its ultimate frag-
ments by those irresistible pennons of sound.
Gloria Rutherford at the prow was the only one to
see another caught bow-on in a yellow ray, reply by
firing its gravity-beam right down the ray and into the
green globe through the port from which the ray had
issued. The ray went out — a spreading spot of flame
appeared at the port and the great green globe crum-
pled into a little ball of flame before her eyes. But
such events as these were the merest flashes in the
close-locked combat. For the most part they had time to
do nothing but handle the controls, throw switches to
and fro, shoot forth gravity-beam and lightning-flash
in endless alternation at the Lassan ships of which
there always appeared to be one more right before them
as Sherman twisted and turned the Monitor with a skill
that was almost uncanny.
Suddenly he pulled out; the four looked round. They
were miles high; below half hidden in the dusk, were
the red and brown roofs of a city. Far away on the
horizon the battle still roared ; a rolling cloud of smoke
now, shot with the vivid fires of the American light-
ning flashes. The wings of their ship were spread;
they were soaring gently earthward without the appli-
cation of the rocket power.
"Had to get away for a minute,” Sherman explained.
“We were heating up from the speed. My God, but
we’re high up; at least 46,000 feet!”
"Yes, and getting higher,” Ben pointed out. “Those
green globes must be headed for the moon.”
"Do you know, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised but what
you’re right,” replied Sherman, “I’ll bet an oil-ball
against the whole Lassan city that they think we can’t
navigate space and they’re trying to get above us and
then hang around and pop us when we have to land.
Well, come on gang, let’s get back.”
He shot the wings in again, worked the controls, and
they headed back toward the conflict.
It was less of a turmoil now, more of an ordered
swing, charge, pass and charge again against the dimin-
ishing number of the Lassan globes. Of the Amer-
ican rocket-ships Gloria could now count but two be-
side their own. One she had seen break up; whether
the others, badly damaged, had hauled out for repairs,
or whether, riven by the deadly yellow ray, they had
gone crashing to the earth, there was no way of know-
ing. But the Lassans were not escaping unharmed;
there were hardly a third as many as at the beginning
and even as they approached another one disappeared
in the vivid flash of the rocket’s lightnings. Still the
rest rose steadily on, going straight up as though they
indeed hoped to escape their tormentors by rising to
the moon.
They dived in: Gloria pressed the lightning key
and another Lassan globe blew up; then they were
climbing again. Beneath them the night had come.
The earth was a dark mass, far down, and from that
enormous distance looked slightly dished out at the
edges. But though the earth was dark, at that ultimate
height of the atmosphere the sun had not 3 ^t set. Still
the strange fight went on, higher and higher. The roar
of the exhaust explosions died away behind them and
Murray looked questioningly at Sherman.
“Out this far, there isn’t much air,” he said. “Takes
air to conduct sound. Wonder what they’re up to,
anyway. All right, Gloria.”
He dived at another Lassan and she pressed the
lightning ray ; but this time there was no flash, no flam-
ing Lassan ship falling in ruins to the ground.
“Who’d have thought it!” said Sherman, as he swung
the Monitor round after the charge. “Of course —
we’re up so high that we’ve made a spark gap that even
lightning won’t jump. But I don’t get their idea; those
sound rays won’t be any good out here, either.”
CHAPTER XXIII
Into the Depths
T he Monitor turned again, speeding back toward
the remaining Lassan ships; with a startling
shock of surprise, Gloria noticed that there were
only two. Dovm below them one of the last three Amer-
ican rocket-cruisers had spread her wings and was
gliding gently toward the earth. Like the Monitor’s,
her crew had evidently found the lightning flash worth-
less at the enormous altitude and was abandoning the
battle till conditions became more favorable. The other
rocket remained faithful; turned as they turned and
charged up with them toward the last of the Lassans.
It was a weird scene. They had climbed so far that
the earth was now perceptibly round beneath them; a
vague line marked the westward progress of the sunset
and beyond it the sun, an immense yellow ball, set with
a crown of vividly red flames, hung in the inky-black
heavens. On the opposite side, the stars, more brilliant
and greater in num^r than any ever before viewed by
the eye of man, made the sky a carpet of light across
which the green globes moved like shadows, their under
sides illumined by the sun.
As the Monitor approached, the nearest globe seemed
to be turning on its axis. Suddenly, out of the side that
faced them, came the quick, stabbing beam of the light-
ray, like the flicker of a sword. It struck the Monitor
full on the prow. There was a burning rain of sparks
past the windows; the rocket-ship leaped and quivered,
and those within felt, rather than saw, something give.
Then, with a tremendous explosion, all the more hor-
rible because utterly without sound, the great globe that
had thrown the ray, burst into fragments.
And at the same moment the Monitor began to fall.
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
207
Down, down, down went the rocket-cruiser with the
round ball of the earth rising to meet them at a speed
incredible. The sun went out; they were swallowed
in a purple twilight as they plunged. The earth changed
from a ball to a dish, from a dish to a plane, from a
plane to a dark mass without form, and in the mass
vague lights and glimmerings of water came out, and
still their course was unchecked, still Sherman fought
frantically with the useless controls.
Desperately Murray pressed the firing keys of the
stern-rockets; unchecked she drove on, almost straight
down, plunging to certain destruction. The earth
loomed nearer, nearer, the end seemed inevitable — .
Then Gloria saved them. In some moment of inspi-
ration, she threw on the searchlight; and the auto-
matic connection fired the gravity-beam. There was
a shattering report; the course of the Monitor was
halted, and bruised and broken, she tumbled over and
over to the ground, safe but ruined.
“Suffering Lassans!” said Ben Ruby, as they picked
themselves out of the wreckage, “but that was a jar.
What hit us, anyway?”
Sherman pointed to Gloria, breathlessly. “Give the
little girl a hand,” he ejaculated. “She sure pulled us
out of the fire that time.”
“I’ll say she did,” said Murray, "but what happened,
an 3 Tway? I thought that light-ray of theirs wouldn’t
work on these ships.” ^
“It won’t — in air,” said Sherman ruefully, sur-
veying the wreck of the Monitor. “But the air blankets
down the effect a lot. Out there we got the whole dose.
Even then it shouldn’t have hurt us so seriously, but
I expect a lot of our lead sheathing got jarred loose
when we went through those yellow rays and when they
let that light-ray go, she leaked all over the place.
Wonder what made that Lassan ship blow up like that,
though? I thought she sure had us.”
“Oh,” said Ben, “I think maybe I did that. When
the light-ray came on it occurred to me that the
gravity-beam might go down their beam of light just as
fast as it would down ours, and they must have a port-
hole or something through their gravity-screen or they
couldn’t let the ray out. So I just let them have it.”
“Boy, you sure saved the lives of four of Uncle Sam’s
flying men that time. About one second more of that
stuff and we’d have cracked up right there. Look at
the front of our bus. The outer plating is all caved
in and the inner is starting to go.”
“She is pretty well used up isn’t she? What gets me
though, is that there’s one more of those things loose.”
“Look!” cried Gloria suddenly, pointing upward.
Far in the zenith above them they saw a point of
light; a point that grew and spread and became defi-
nite as a great star; then it became a shooting star,
plunging earthward, and so great was its speed that
even as they watched they could make out a green
fragment, flame-wrapped in its midst.
“The last one!” said Sherman. "Thank God for that.
Wonder how they got her?”
"Wonder what we do next,” remarked Murray, prac-
tically.
They looked about them. They were on a hillside
in a little clearing in a high, narrow valley. On every
side were woods, dark and impenetrable. Just below
they could hear the purl of a brook, and the trees
about them were bare with the dark bareness of spring,
a few fugitive buds being the only announcement that
the season of growing was at hand. No landmarks, no
roads were visible, and the sky was darkening fast.
“The question,” said Gloria, "is not where do we go,
but where are we going from.”
“It might be most anywhere,” remarked Murray.
“Adirondacks, Catskills, or even Laurentians. I don’t
think we got far enough west for it to be the Blue
Ridge or the Appalachians, but there’s no way of
telling.”
"Well,” Gloria offered, "I’ve been in a lot of moun-
tains in my day, but I never saw any where following a
stream didn’t take you somewhere sooner or later. I
vote we trail along with that brook there and see what
happens.”
"Bright thought,” commented Ben. “Let’s see what
we can dig out of the wreck by way of weapons.”
“What for? There aren’t any animals, and they
couldn’t hurt you if there were. If we meet any of
the Lassans any weapon you got out of that mess
wouldn’t be much use. Wish we had a flashlight
though.”
Treading carefully, but with a good deal of noise
and confusion, they l^gan to crash their way through
the underbrush along the bank of the stream. At the
foot of the valley it dived over a diminutive waterfall
and then tumbled into another similar brook. Along
the combined streams ran a road — a dirt road origi-
nally, now long untraveled, muddy and bad, but still
a road.
An hour’s walking brought them around the foot of
another mountain and into a valley where the road
divided before a projecting buttress of rock. A teeter-
ing sign-post stood at the fork. With some trouble,
and after getting himself immersed to the knees in
the ditch, Murray managed to reach it and straining
his eyes in the starlight, made out what it said. “THIS
WAY TO HAMILTON’S CHICKEN DINNERS. 1
MILE” it read. With a snort of disgust he hurled the
deceitful guidepost into the ditch and joined the others.
“Toss a coin,” someone suggested. No coins. A
knife was flipped up instead. It fell heads and in ac-
cordance with its decision they took the road to the
right. It led them along beside the stream for a while,
then parted company with it and began to climb, and
they soon found themselves at the crest of the hill.
The night had become darker and darker, clouding over.
But for the road they would have been completely lost.
Finally, after skirting the hillcrest for a distance, the
road dipped abruptly, and as it did so, they passed out
of the forest into a region cleared but not cultivated,
with numerous close-cut stumps coming right to the
roadside.
“But for the fact that it’s a long ways away,” re-
marked Sherman, “I would say that this was the dis-
trict around the Lassan headquarters.”
“What makes you think it’s a long ways away?”
asked Gloria. “Do you know where we are? Neither
do I.”
“By the nine gods of Clusium, I believe that’s it, at
that!” said Sherman suddenly as the road turned past
a place where a long scar of earth ran up the hillside,
torn and blackened. “Look — that looks exactly like the
result of one of our gravity-beam shots! And there —
isn’t that the door?”
They were on the hillside now, directly above the
place he had indicated. From above and in the dark-
ness it appeared as a cliff, breaking down rapidly to the
valley, but Sherman led them to one side, straight
down the hill and in another moment they were at its
base. The great door through which the green balls
had poured out that evening stood before them, a
mighty arch reaching up into the dimness — and it was
open.
“Looks like the boys haven’t come home to supper
yet,” said Gloria in an awed whisper, contemplating
208 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
the gigantic arch and the dark passage into which it
led.
“Yes, and a lot of them aren’t coming, either," re-
plied Murray in a similar tone. “But what do we do —
make a break for it or poke in and see if anybody’s
home?’’
“Listen, you three,’’ said Sherman. “You run along
and build some more monitors and go get whatever
comes out of here. Me, I’m going to have a whirl at
this door. The swellest girl in the world is in there, or
was, and and I’m going to find her.”
“Nothing doing, old scout,’’ said Ben. “If you go in
we go too — except Gloria."
“What’s the matter with me?” she demanded. “I’m
made of the same kind of machinery you are, aren’t
I? And I’m good enough to run your foolish fighting-
machine. Don’t be a goop.” And she stepped forward.
The blue-domed hall that gave directly on the outer
air had disappeared since Sherman and Marta Lami
had raced out of it on that night that now seemed so
long ago. In its place was an enormous tunnel, lined
apparently with some metal, for its sides were smooth
and shimmering. The portion they entered was light-
less, but it curved as it ran down, and around the curve
they could see the faint reflection of a light somewhere
farther along the passage. Their feet echoed oddly
in the enormous silence of the place. There seemed
nothing alive or dead within.
"Boy,” whispered Murray to Gloria, “if one of those
green globes comes back now it will squash us flatter
than a false prosperity bankroll. This is the craziest
thing we ever did."
“Right,” she said, “but what the hell? I just came
for the ride. Look, what’s that?”
Before them, around the bend of the passage, they
could see another door from which the light which glit-
tered along the tunnel was streaming. In the opening
stood a man, or what seemed to be a man, facing, for-
tunately, inwards.
After a moment’s cautious peering, Sherman pro-
nounced him one of the ape-man slaves. He wore a
thought-helmet, and had some kind of a weapon in his
hand. The four held a cautiously whispered confer-
ence.
“Listen,” said Sherman, “we’ve got to jump that
baby before he does anything. I think he’s got one of
those small light-guns. Didn’t know they trusted them
to the slaves, but I suppose so many of the Lassans got
shot up that they had to do it. Now, who’s got a
knife?”
A search of pockets revealed that Murray Lee had
the only one in the company.
“Never mind,” said Sherman, “one is enough. Now
we three will sneak up on him. The main thing is not
to let him see us; if he makes a move, jump him quick.
Remember there’s a Lassan at the other end of the line,
and the Lassan is getting everything he thinks. He
doesn’t think very fast, but don’t take chances. If he
sees us, you hop in, Murray, and cut the wire that
leads out of his helmet and short-circuit it. They may
have it fixed so that it won’t short-circuit by now but
I don’t think so. If he doesn’t see us before we jump
him, clap your hands over his eyes, Ben, and I’ll try
to get the helmet off him and pass out some information
to the Lassan at the other end that will keep him quiet.
But the main thing is to get that gun first. Every-
body understand?”
Three heads nodded in unison.
“All right. Come on.”
They crept up the passage together avoiding touch-
ing hands lest the ring of the metal should warn the
sentry. As they approached they could see the room he
looked out on was one of the familiar blue-domed halls ;
the passage ended sharply some six feet above its floor
(“Taking no chances on more escapes” thought Sher-
man) and that the hall was of enormous size. There
were machines in one corner of the floor. In another
stood one of the green globes, half finished, with
spidery trellises of red metal outlining what would be
the surface of the sphere. Around it helmeted mechan-
ical men came and went busily. The rest of the hall,
for all its vast extent, was completely empty. At the
far end was a row of doors; high on the far side an
opening that looked like a door but had no obvious
purpose.
This much they saw; then the sentry stirred as
though to turn, and with a quick patter of feet, they
were upon him. Before he had time to turn around
Ben Ruby launched himself in a perfect football tackle
for his legs, bringing the ape-man down with a crash.
As he fell, Sherman snatched at the helmet, and Gloria
the light-gun, which had dropped from his fingers,
while Murray pinioned the struggling creature’s arms.
In a moment Sherman found the finger-holes in the
helmet, pressed, and it came loose in his hands while
the ape-man ceased to struggle.
“Let him up now, folks,” said Sherman, "give him
a swift kick and point him toward the door. He won’t
come back.”. And he rapidly adjusted the thought-
helmet to his own head.
The Lassan at the other end was evidently disturbed.
He had received the sound of the crash from the ape-
man’s brain and was asking querulously what it meant.
“What has happened ?” the thought demanded insist-
ently. “What is it that struck you? Have the fight-
ing machines returned? Show a picture of what you
see. Are the slaves escaping ?”
"Everything’s all right,” Sherman sent back. “Some-
thing broke loose down below and I stumbled trying to
look at it.” He closed his eyes, forming a mental pic-
ture of the hall, with everything in order, then one
of the passage, and reached up and detached the hel-
met, motioning to Murray for the knife. An instant’s
sawing and the device short-circuited with a fizzing of
blue sparks.
“That will give that one a headache for a while,”
he remarked. “We’ll have to hurry, though. When he
comes to he’ll investigate and then there’ll be trouble.”
“What’s that?” asked Gloria, pointing across the
hall at the aperture high up in the wall. A gleaming
beak had been thrust out and the bright, intelligent eye
of one of the dodo-birds was regarding them malevo-
lently from the opening.
“Shoot, quick!” said Sherman, “For God’s sake!
They’re telepathic. They’ll have every Lassan in the
place after us."
Gloria fumbled a second with the gun, located the
finger hole, sent a spurt of light flying across the room.
It missed the head, but found its mark somewhere in
the body of the bird, for there was a squawk and the
head disappeared. Sherman vaulted down the six-foot
drop, landing with a bang. “Come on,” he cried,
“short-circuit every wire you can find; tear them loose
if you can’t cut them any other way — and make for
the middle door at the back.”
They ran across the hall toward the work benches.
It seemed enormous; like a race in a dream, in which
one seems to make no progress whatever. But the
workers did not appear to notice them. Driven by the
thoughts of the controlling Lassans, they were incap-
able of attending to anything else unless it was forced
on their attention.
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
209
As they approached the benches, however, one flat-
faced ape-man almost ran into them. His face took on
an expression of puzzled inquiry and at the same mo-
ment a figure whose carriage plainly showed it human
stepped down toward them from the half-completed
green globe. Gloria paused, leveled her light-gun at
the ape-man, and his face vanished in a spray of fire.
The human advanced slowly as though struggling
against some force that was too strong for him. Sher-
man reached him first, wrenched the helmet from his
head and dropping it on the floor stamped on it till
the fine mechanism was irretrievably ruined. The me-
chanical human fell to his knees.
“Who are you?” he asked, “God?”
“We’re all right,” said Murray, and Sherman, "which
way to the living cages? Do you know Marta Lami?”
The man shook his head like one recovering from a
dream. “I do’ know,” he said, “they had the helmets
on me for twenty periods. I do’ know nothing. We
came through that door. In the little automobiles.”
He indicated a door behind some of the machines.
Speed was urgent, but Sherman paused to instruct
them briefly. “There’ll be another sentry at the door.
Pop him first, Gloria. Murray, take your knife, and
Ben, get anything you can and cut all the wires on those
birds around here. There are some more wires lead-
ing out of the machines. Be sure to get them, too.
You might let loose something important. We’ll try
to get you another gun.”
CHAPTER XXIV
The Ending of It All
I MPASSIVELY, oblivious of the invasion about
them, the workers kept on at their machines like
ants when their nest is broken open. Sherman
and Gloria dodged around one of them, avoiding the
direct line of eight of the robot who worked at it and
walked rapidly toward the door giving on the car-
tracks. The man on duty had no weapon, but paid
them no attention, being occupied in watching a car
just sliding in to the station. “It’s a shame” began
Gloria, but “Shoot!” insisted Sherman and the light-
ray struck him in the back of the neck fusing head and
neck to a single mass. As he sank to the floor he
turned partly over.
“Good heavens, it’s Stevens!” said Gloria, “the man
who organized the rebellion against Ben Ruby in New
York and brought the dodos down on us.”
“Never mind. Hurry,” her companion urged in a
fever of activity. The doors of the car were opening
and half a dozen mechanical men stepped out, mostly
with the foolish visages and shambling steps of the
ape-men, but two whose upright walk proclaimed them
human.
"Listen, everybody,” called Sherman, quickly. “We’re
from outside. We’re trying to bust up this place. Get
back in the car, quick, and come help us.” Suiting the
action to the word, he leaped for the first compartment,
reached it just as it was closing and wedged himself
inside.
The car had a considerable run to make. In the
dimly-lighted compartment, Sherman was conscious of
turns, right, left, right again, and of a steady descent.
He wondered vaguely whether he had taken the right
method; whether the cage rooms lay near one another
or were widely separated. At all events the diversion
in the hall of the green globes would hold the attention
of the Lassans for some time, and the short-circuiting
of so many lines would hamper their methods of dealing
with the emergency . . .
The car came to a stop. Sherman heard a door or
two open, but his own did not budge, and he had no
needle to stir it He must wait, hoping that Gloria
had not been isolated from him. She had the ray-gun
at all events, and would not be helpless. Then the
door opened again.
He was released into a cage that seemed already
occupied, and one look told him that his companion was
an ape-man.
“Gloria!” he called.
“Right here,” came the cheerful answer from two
cages down. “This is a swell thing you got me into.
How do we get out of here?”
“Have you got a pin or needle of any kind?” he asked.
"Why — yes. Turn your back.” She did something
mysterious among her feminine garments and held up
an open safety-pin for him to see across the interven-
ing cage.
“Stick your arm through the bars and see if you can
toss it down the track. If I don’t get it, you’ll have to
blast your way out with the light-gun, but I don’t like
to do that. Don’t know how many shots it holds and
we need them all.”
She swung with that underarm motion which is the
nearest any woman can achieve to a throw. The pin
struck the gleaming car-rail, skidded, turned and came
to rest before Sherman’s cage. He reached for it, but
the ape-man in the cage, who had been watching with
interested eyes, was quicker. Fending Sherman off
with one huge paw, he reached one of his feet through
the bars for the object and held it up before his eyes
admiringly.
Sherman grabbed, but this only fixed the ape-man in
his evident opinion that the object he held was of value.
He gripped it all the tighter, turned an amiable face
toward Sherman and gibbered. Losing patience at this
unfortunate contretemps when time was so precious,
the aviator lifted an iron foot and kicked him, vigor-
ously and with purpose, in the place where kicks do
the most good. The ape-man pitched forward, drop-
ping the fascinating pin, then rose and came toward
Sherman, his expression clearly indicating his inten-
tion of tearing the American limb from limb. The
cage was narrow: the ape-man the bigger of the two.
Sherman thought hard and fast. The oil-ball!
He leaped for the lectern, snatched it open, seized the
ape-man’s oil-ball and held it aloft as though to throw
it out into the corridor. With a wail of anguish the
simian clutched at the precious object. Shernmn
squeezed it enough to let a little stream run forth, hold-
ing it just out of his reach, and as he stabbed for it
again, tossed it back into a corner of the cell. The
ape-man leaped upon it covetously, and Sherman bent
over the bars, fumbling in his nervous haste to unlock
them.
Luckily the safety-pin fitted. With a subdued click
the bars swung inward and he was out in the corridor.
Another moment and Gloria was free also.
“Any more people in here?” Sherman called. Three
voices answered and he hurried from cage to cage,
setting them free as the warning blue lights that pro-
hibited shouting began to flicker around the roof.
“Come on,” he called, “we must get out of here,
quick!”
They hesitated a moment between the two doors,
chose that at the upper end. As they raced through it,
they heard a panel clash somewhere. The Lassans
were investigating.
They were in one of the passages through which
the cars ran, with alternate bars of light and dark
across it marking the termination of side-passages.
210 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
“Look!” said Gloria. Into the cage-room they had just
quitted a car was coming, its featureless front gliding
noiselessly along the track. “In here,” said Sherman,
pulling the others after him down the nearest lighted
passage.
Followed by the other four Sherman followed it
steadily along to the right, where it ended at a door.
“What now?” said someone.
“In,” decided Gloria. “Likely to be a cage-room as
not.”
Sherman searched for the inevitable finger-holes,
found them and pressed. The door swung back on —
A Lassan reclining at ease on one of the curious
twisted benches beside which stood a tall jar of the
same yellow-flecked green material they had seen the
others devouring. The room was blue-domed but very
small, and its walls were covered with soft green hang-
ings in pendulous drops. A thought-helmet was on
the elephant-man’s head; its other end was worn by
one of the mechanical people whose back was to the
door as they entered, and who appeared to be working
some kind of machine that punched little holes of vary-
ing shape in a strip of bright metal.
As the five Americans pressed into the room, the
Lassan rose, reached for his ray-gun, but Gloria pushed
the one she held into his face and he relaxed with a
little squeal of terror, while Sherman reached into his
pouch and secured the weapon.
As he did so the Lassan reached up and snapped
loose the thought-helmet ; the metal figure turned round
and gazed at them.
“Marta!”
“The boy friend!”
T he Lassan was very old. His skin was almost
white and seamed with sets of diminutive wrinkles,
and as he regarded the two mechanical people, locked
in each other’s embrace an expression of puzzlement
and distaste came over his features, giving place to one
of cool and lofty dignity as he perceived that Gloria
did not mean to kill him on the spot. Lifting his trunk,
he motioned imperiously toward the thought-helmet
which Marta had cast aside, then set the other end of
it on his own head.
To the invading Americans, crowded into the little
room, it seemed for a moment as though they had some-
how burst into a temple. Sherman’s face became grave,
and following the Lassan’s direction, he picked up the
helmet and fitted it on his head. The thought that
came through it gave a feeling of dignity and power
such as he had never experienced before; almost as
though it were some god talking.
“By what right,” it demanded, “do you invade the
room of scientific composition? Why are you not in
your cages? You know you will receive the punish-
ment of the yellow lights in the greater degree for
this unauthorized invasion. Save yourself further pun-
ishment now by retiring quietly. You can take my
life, it is true, but I am old and my life is of no value.
Think not that I am the only Lassan in the universe.”
"Sorry,” Sherman gave him back, “but this is a re-
bellion. You are not familiar with the history of this
planet, or you would know that American’s can’t be
anybody’s slaves. Let us go in peace and we will let
you return to your own planet.”
“Let us go!” came the Lassan’s answer. “Your ob-
stinate presumption surprises me. Do you think that
the Lassans of Rigel, the highest race in the universe
will let go where they have once grasped ?”
“You will or we’ll jolly well make you,” replied the
jimerican. “Do you think your silly green globes are
going to do you any good? The last one fell beside us
tonight.”
Sherman could sense the sudden wave of panic in the
Lassan’s thought at this unexpected answer. He had
evidently assumed that they were from the under-
ground labor battalions and were not familiar with
events outside. But he rallied nobly.
“And do you imagine, foolish creature of a lower
race, that the green globes are our last resource? Even
now I have i>erfected a device that will wipe your mis-
erable people from the planet. But if it did not, rather
would we Lassans parish in the flames of a ruined world
than abandon a task once undertaken; we who can
mold the plastic flesh to enduring metal and produce
machines that have brains; we who can control the
great substance that underlies all life and matter.”
"Well, here’s one task you’re going to abandon,”
Sherman thought back. “We, who can call lightning
from the skies, are going to give you a terrible sock
on the — trunk, if you don’t. If you doubt it try and
find how many Lassans live after today’s battle. Go
on back where you came from. You’re not wanted in
this world.”
“You know, or should know, the law of evolution,”
replied the Lassan. “The weaker and less intelligent
must ever give way before the stronger. By the di-
vine right of — ” his flow of thought stopped suddenly,
changed to a wild tumult of panic. Sherman looked up.
Round the rim of the blue dome, where it stood above
the hangings, a string of lights was winking oddly,
in a strange, uneven rhythm. “God of the Lassans, de-
liver us!” the thought that reached his own was saying.
“The tanks are broken — ^the light is loose!” Then sud-
denly his mind was closed and when it opened again it
had taken on a new calmness and dignity and a certain
god-like strength.
“I do not know how or where,” it told Sherman,
“but an accident has happened. Perhaps an accident
produced by your strange and active race. The connec-
tions have broken ; the tanks of the substance of life in
the bowels of this mountain have broken and the whole
is set free. It is hard to see the labor of centuries
thus destroyed; to see you, creatures of a lower race,
inherit a world so divinely adapted to the rule of intel-
ligence.
“For in this accident the whole of our race must
perish if you have told the truth about the destruction
of our green globes. We called in all the Lassans from
your world for the work of the destruction of your
armies. Yes, you told the truth. Your mind is open,
I can see it. We are lost . . . There is no hope remain-
ing; it means destruction or the metal metamorphosis
for every living Lassan, and there will be none to en-
dow them with the life in metal we have given you.
“Perhaps it was our own fault. Your curious race,
for all its defects, has certain qualities of intelligence,
and above all that strange quality of activity and what
you call courage. If we could have summoned up the
same activity; if we had possessed the same courage
to attack against odds, this would not have happened.
It is our failure that we have depended too much on
naked intellect; learned to do too many things through
the hands of our servants. Had Lassans been at the
controls of our fighting ships, instead of the autom-
atons we used, you would never have conquered them
so easily.
“Be that as it may. We have lost and you have won.
I can show myself more generous than you would have
been, and thus can gain a victory over you. If you
would escape, follow the car-track straight on to where
it forks ; then take the left-hand turning. If you would
THE ONSLAUGHT FROM RIGEL
211
be restored to your former and imperfect and repulsive
form (though I cannot conceive why you should, being
permanently fixed in beautiful and immortal metal) , do
not run away, but await the coming of the substance
of life in the outer hall or passage, being careful not
to approach It too closely or to touch it, so that you
may receive the emanation only. It is this emanation,
surrounding our space ship that produced your pres-
ent form, which we changed to machinery by our sur-
gery ; and it so acts on the metal of which you are com-
posed that it will reverse the case. As for me I am old
and tired; already the walls of this place tremble to
the coming of my doom. Leave me, before I regret
what I have told you.”
H e reached his trunk up and disconnected the
thought-helmet, and standing up, with a certain
high dignity, pointed to the door.
Relieved of the helmet Sherman could hear a con-
fused roaring like that on the day when Marta Lami
and he had short-circuited the mining machine. "Come
on,” he called to the rest, dropping the helmet. “Hell’s
let loose. We’ve got to hurry.”
Outside the roaring was perceptibly louder and
seemed to be approaching. As they leaped down to
the track a faint glow was borne to them redly along
the rail. The ape-men in the cage-room they had es-
caped from were howling and beating the bars of their
cages, with no blue lights to forbid them.
The track was slippery — Marta Lami and the three
they had released from the cage room, unshod. Sher-
man gripped her by the hand. “Hurry, oh, hurry,” he
panted, pulling her along.
They passed another passage, down which a door
stood open. The soft light that normally illuminated the
place was flickering wildly, they caught a glimpse of
three or four Lassans within, stirring wildly, rushing
from place to place, trying this connection and that.
The dull sound behind them increased; the track grew
steeper.
“What about the rest?” gasped Gloria, running by
his side.
“Don’t know,” he answered. “They did something.
The whole place is coming do-wn.”
As they rounded a corner the track forked before
them. Remembering the Lassan’s parting instructions,
Sherman led them to the left, passed another passage
mouth, and they found themselves in a small blue-
domed hall, empty save for a single car that stood on
the track. There was just room to squeeze past it
where the passage began again at the other end. And
as they made it the roaring sound changed to a series
of explosions, sharp and clear. The ground trembled,
seemed to tilt; the car slid backward into the passage
they had just vacated.
Ten feet, twenty-five feet more — and they were on
the platform leading to the hall of the green globes.
Sherman swung himself up, offered a hand to Marta.
In a moment the others were beside them and they
were darting for the door. The ground was trembling
again, shock after shock. Something fell with a crash
as they raced across the platform and into the hall.
Within, all was confused darkness and a babble of
sound. A dodo screamed somewhere. An ape-man ran
past them, gibbering, mad with fright, and dived to
the track. Sherman ran across the hall, followed by
Marta and the three he had released. Gloria halted.
“Murray!” she cried, "Murray!” and then lifted the
light-gun and sent a pencil of fire screeching to the
roof. There was an answering shock as something
tumbled from the ceiling.
“Murray!” she called again, at the top of her voice.
Behind them, through the platform something fell with
a crash and a long red flame licked through the door,
throwing tall shadows and weird lights across the bed-
lam within.
“Here!” came a voice, and Gloria turned to see Mur-
ray and Ben running toward her.
“Come on,” she said, “hurry. The works is husted.”
They made the doorway just as Sherman was pulling
Marta up the six-foot step. Ben and Murray lifted
Gloria in their arms, tossed her up. The red flame in
the background had given place to a white one, and a
boiling white mass of something was sending a long
tongue creeping across the floor.
Willing arms snatched at those of Ben and Murray,
pulling them upward to safety. They turned to run
down the tunnel.
“No!” cried Sherman. “Stick! It’s all right. The
old bloke told me so.”
There was another explosion and a great white cloud
rolled toward them above the liquid tide. Then they
lapsed into unconsciousness.
Murray Lee yawned and sat up.
The others lay around him in curious piled atti-
tudes as though they had dropped off to sleep in the
midst of something. He noted, with a shock of sur-
prise, that Ben Ruby’s face, turned in his direction,
was not metal, but good, honest flesh and blood. He
gazed at his own hands. Flesh and blood likewise. He
looked around.
The hall of the blue dome had vanished. A tangled
mass of rock, cemented in some grey material, was be-
fore them, obscure in the darkness. At the other end
was the passage, its ceiling fallen here and there, its
sides caved in. But a stream of light showed that an
opening still led to the outside.
He bent over and shook Gloria. She came to with a
start, looked about her, and said with an air of sur-
prise, “Oh, have I been asleep? Why, what’s happened
to you Murray? You need a shave.” Then felt of her
own face and found it smooth again.
“For Heaven’s sake!” she ejaculated.
The sound brought the rest bolt upright. Sherman
looked round at the others, then at the passage, and
smiled with satisfaction.
“That old Lassan,” he remarked, “told me the metal
evolution would reverse if we got the emanation with-
out letting the stuff touch us. Well, he was a sport.”
"Yes, but — ” said Marta Lami, standing up and feel-
ing of herself. “Look what they did to us. My toes
are flexible and my figure bulges in such queer places.
I’ll never be able to dance again. Oh, well, I suppose
it doesn’t matter — I’ll be marrying the boy friend any-
way.” She took Sherman’s hand and he blushed with
embarrassment.
“Good idea,” said Murray Lee and looked hard at
Gloria.
She nodded and turned her head.
“Ho hum,” said Ben Ruby. “The dictator of New
York seems to be de trap. How does one get out of
here?”
THE END
The Moon Destroyers
By MONROE K. RUCH
THE MOON DESTROYERS
P ROFESSOR ERICKSON, head of the Internation-
al Seismographical Institute, sat with bowed head
and pale face, watching the stylus of the instru-
ment before him trace its path on the slowly revolving
drum. The laboratory, situated high in the Himalayas,
trembled slightly as mid-winter storms roared and
whistled around it, but something quite different, and
infinitely more sinister, was causing the needle to wan-
der from its ordinarily straight path.
Suddenly, with horrible cer-
tainty, it jumped, wavered back
and forth, and then moved rapid-
ly to the right, until its black ink
no longer traced a line on the
white paper.
Holden,” shouted Erickson to
his assistant, "what does the di-
rection and distance finder tell
us? The stylus has run clear off
the graph.”
Young Jack Holden was work-
ing feverishly over the dials and
levers of the panel before him.
Slender yet strong, he looked like
a long-bow of stout old yew as he
bent to the task. His steel gray
eyes focused intently on the vern-
iers, taking the readings. The
muscles in his tanned cheeks were
tight as he turned toward his su-
perior. For a mo-
ment the very storm
seemed to hush,
awaiting the words.
Then he spoke.
"It’s the Lauren-
tian fault!”
For a moment both
men stared at each
other, stunned and
helpless.
"That means,” Hol-
den managed to say,
"that New York is a
mass of ruins.”
Pictures were
forming in his mind;
he saw the huge steel
and glass towers of
the city, tossed and
torn by the convul-
sive writhings of the
earth beneath. Great
engineers had said
that the city was
safe, that no tremors
would ever disturb
it, but they knew
nothing of the terrific
force of such a shock
as this. Those mas-
sive buildings, thou-
sands of feet high,
would now be mere
heaps of twisted
junk. Holden closed his eyes to shut out the picture,
but to no avail. His sister! God! She was probably
one of the millions who now lay, crushed, bleeding and
helpless beneath the wreckage of the too-proud metro-
polis.
“My boy,” the professor was speaking, "we must stay
with our work, no matter what happens.” His voice
was low; his entire family had been wiped out, with-
out doubt, but Science must be served.
For hours the two sat before their instruments, as
shock after shock was recorded. Jones came down
from the television room above, and his report con-
firmed their observations in horrible detail.
“All communications from the city itself are cut off,
but an airliner from England, which was about to dock,
has broadcast the scene. Aid is
being rushed from all over the
world, but at a conservative esti-
mate ten million are already dead,
and millions more will probably
die, buried and hidden as they
are beneath the wreckage.”
At last, nearly five hours after
the first shock, the Professor
stood up.
"I think that is all. My proph-
ecies have come true, and at last
my theories will be heeded. But
the cost of it all, the horrible
cost!”
T WO weeks later a group of
men were seated around the
conference table in the spacious
offices of the Department of Pub-
lic Safety of the World Union.
All faces were turned
toward the stooped
figure of Professor
Erickson, who was
speaking from the
head of the table.
“Gentlemen, I have
outlined to you, only
too briefly, the dam-
age caused by the
quake a few days
ago. I now state that
a repetition of such a
disaster is imminent.
Great faults have
formed in the basic
granites throughout
the entire globe. Ob-
servations recorded
during five centuries
since the first concep-
tion of the idea by
Dr. Maxwell Allen in
1931, show conclu-
sively that Earth-
tides, set up by the
attraction of the
moon, cause a sweep-
ing series of stresses
and strains. These,
coming to a fault,
produce earthquakes.
Now that there are
huge faults in the
basic rock, these
quakes will be of a tremendous force and range which
the most modern structures will be unable to resist.”
“Professor,” spoke John Dorman, Secretary of Public
Safety, "if all this is true, and we are assured that it
is, what on earth can be done about it?”
"Gentlemen, during nearly seventy years I have
'T'HE moon is not only the most prominent
object in our heavens, but also an inte-
gral part of the earth. We are, so to speak,
an astronomical unit, and we affect each oth-
er for better or for worse.
We know that the gravitational attraction
of the moon causes our tides, and tends to
slow up the earth in her daily rotation. It
has also been deemed responsible for earth-
quakes, causing untold suffering among
earth’s people.
But so far the effect of the moon has been
rather an inhuman affair. No man has gone
to the moon to see just what conditions are
there, and to observe accurately the influence
that the moon and earth exercise over each
other. But when interplanetary travel does
come, when commerce between moon and
earth may possibly assume importance in our
lives, the influence of the moon upon us may
be more accurately determined. And when
it is, the amazing series of incidents, pictured
in this story, may yet come true.
213
214 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
studied that problem, and I have come to only one con-
clusion. Nothing on earth can be done about it, if you
permit the remark, but men from earth can do some-
thing. Destroy the moon!”
A gasp went up from the great men assembled there.
Erickson’s colleagues nodded in helpless agreement.
“But how?” The question came from all sides. Fa-
mous engineers looked at each other questioningly.
“Gentlemen.” This was a new voice, young and full
of energy.
“Mr. Holden,” responded the chairman.
“Professor Erickson was so kind as to confide in me
several years ago, and since then I have been at work
on this problem. I have solved it.”
Eager interest shone on all faces. Jack Holden was
known and liked by many of these men, despite his
youth. His discovery of hexoxen, the chemical which
turned solid matter into almost intangible vapor, had
created quite a stir in scientific circles.
He now continued his address.
“If all the resources of Earth are made use of, it
would be possible to produce hundreds of tons of hex-
oxen and sufficient amounts of the element Europium
to act as a catalyst. That would be plenty to reduce
the moon to a gaseous state. The clouds of gas could
then be penetrated by anti-gravitational screens, which
would cause the smaller pieces to drift off into space,
where they will do no harm whatsoever.”
Several distinguished engineers nodded their heads.
One of them spoke.
“Mr. Secretary, the plan is entirely feasible. I move
that Mr. Holden be given permission to make use of
all the necessary resources to carry out his plan, and
that he be placed in sole charge, assisted by an advis-
ory board of which Professor Erickson shall be chair-
man.”
The motion was carried, the papers drawn up, and
the meeting adjourned.
Holden grasped Professor Erickson firmly by the
arm and hurried him to the elevator.
“We’ve got just five minutes to get to the port.
We’re catching the first air-liner for San Francisco.
There are three of the latest model Mars-Earth freight-
ers there, which we will use for our expedition. We
will also be near the best source of Europium. Hurry.”
As the elevator shot downward, the old professor
endeavored to congratulate Holden on his appointment.
“Forget it. This was your idea, and they should have
named you leader of the expedition, but that really
doesn’t make much difference. Anything you say goes,
see?”
A crowd was milling around the entrance to the
Western Hemisphere tunnel. An official tried to stop
Holden and his companion as they pushed their way
through the crowd.
“The liner is leaving. You can’t go in there.”
“Oh, we can’t, huh? Here.”
A single glance at the paper shoved under his nose,
and the gatekeeper came to life.
“Right this way, you’re just in time.”
The three ran out on top of the building, where the
beautiful silver shape of the liner floated at the top of
a short tower. An officer was just giving the command
to cast loose, but as Holden shouted to him, he counter-
manded it, for special orders from the Union had to be
obeyed, even if schedules were spoiled.
N odding their thanks to the now obsequious gate-
man, the two scientists hurried up the ladder that
had been dropped for them; again came the shouted
“Cast off,” and the huge liner, impelled by powerful
motors, rose rapidly to the high altitude at which she
traveled.
“Message for you, sir,” said a pleasant voice at Hol-
den’s elbow, and he turned. A neatly uniformed boy
held out to him a thin envelope. Breaking the seal,
he read rapidly.
“‘Will you show us in to the Captain, please,” he ad-
dressed the boy as he finished the message.
The lad nodded, and led them down a long hall to the
bow of the ship and up to the bridge.
“Mr. Holden, I presume? And Professor Erickson?
I am Captain Linet.”
The Captain was an immense man, well over six feet,
with the build of a prizefighter. His face was pleasant,
but there was an expression of intense sorrow in his
deep blue eyes.
“I understand that you have been appointed to head
an expedition to the moon, the nature of which has not
been revealed, but which will do away forever with the
earthquakes which have become so prevalent. I wish
to join that expedition. My beloved wife was in New
York at the time of the last quake. You understand.”
Holden nodded sympathetically. He would be glad to
have all the men like this he could find, and he ex-
pressed that opinion to the Captain.
“Thank you. I will resign my position when we
reach San Francisco, and will await your orders.”
“But, Captain,” Holden asked, “how did you know
that I was head of the expedition?”
“Oh, the news has been broadcast everywhere, with
instructions to give you any aid possible. But no in-
formation was given as to the exact nature of the
trip. Could I be trusted — ?”
“Why certainly. We are going to destroy the moon,
wipe it out of existence, so that it will cease to exert
the tremendous gravitational pull that has been caus-
ing — .”
At that moment a petty officer appeared behind the
Captain.
“Haye you any further orders concerning the cargo
to be dumped at New Orleans?”
“No. I thought I gave you to understand that there
were to be no more additions to that cargo. Didn’t you
hear me?”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” the man said, and walked
away.
“I wonder how much of our conversation he heard?”
mused Erickson. “But then, I suppose it makes no
difference.”
After a few minutes of conversation, Holden asked
the Captain if they could be shown their cabins, so that
they could get a few hours of rest before reaching their
destination. The request was readily granted, and in a
few minutes Holden was alone in a neat little room,
furnished with a comfortable chair, tables along two
walls, and a very pleasant looking berth built into the
third side. The professor had a similar place a few
doors down the hall.
Holden threw off his shoes and coat and tumbled into
the berth. The events of the last weeks were spinning
in his head, and a procession of visions passed before
his eyes. That terrible catastrophe, the trip to Europe,
to the capitol of the World Union, and now, the appoint-
ment as leader of the most important expedition in the
history of the universe, with the possible exception of
that first epoch-making voyage to Mars back in 2360.
Another vision appeared before his eyes. Jean!
Jean, his own sweetheart, the one person in the world
who mattered, gone now for a full year. Why had
she decided to make the voyage to Mars? What could
have happened to the ill-fated Gloriana, with her hun-
THE MCX)N DESTROYERS
215
dreds of passengers and valuable cargo? A year ago
she had left; and, as some people said, merely drifted
out into space, never to be heard from again.
A deep sob shook Holden’s body as he thought of
that beautiful girl, who, laughing at his fears, had
stepped into the space flyer with a smile on her lips,
promising to come back in a year and marry him.
At last, however, these memories gave way before
exhaustion, and he fell into a sleep, troubled by strange
dreams. It seemed that a great serpent had attacked
him, and, flinging its coils about his body, was slowly
squeezing out his life. Suddenly, he was wide awake.
Strong hands were on his throat, the thumbs were
pressed tight against his larynx.
He struggled to gain his breath, to shout for help,
but the pressure closed his throat. In another moment
it would be too late. Then his mind cleared; raising
both hands to the back of his neck, he grasped the
little fingers of his assailant, and pulled with all his
strength. The man gave a cry of pain and anger and
relaxed his grip. Holden gulped in a breath of air,
and flung himself from his berth, endeavoring to catch
and hold the coward who- had attacked in the dark.
The man, however, was wiry and quick. With a sudden
jerk he wriggled loose, gained the door and was gone.
When Holden reached the corridor, no one was in sight.
Quickly he walked to Professor Erickson’s room, awak-
ened him, and told him what had happened.
Erickson rang up a steward, who promised to do
everything in his power to apprehend the culprit.
“Who could it have been?’’ asked Erickson.
“I haven’t the slightest idea. I have no enemies
that I know of. I’m not ‘carrying any valuables. It
was probably a case of mistaken identity.’’
The incident was dismissed with that interpretation,
and it was several weeks before Holden thought of it
again, but then he wished fervently that he had investi-
gated more thoroughly.
CHAPTER II
A Midnight Attack
I T WAS midnight when the liner reached San Fran-
cisco, but Holden Insisted on going at once to the
offices of the Interplanetary Transportation Com-
pany, where work was carried on day and night. For-
tunately they found an official of the company who had
sufficient power to carry out their instructions.
It is unnecessary to go into the details of the meet-
ing, or of the ensuing days. The unlimited power
given Holden, together with the vital importance of
his mission, brought everyone into instant cooperation.
Three mammoth space ships were turned over to the
gang of mechanics he had hired, to be fitted with pro-
jectors for the anti -gravitational screens. Thousands
of chemists all over the world dropped their work to
prepare the precious hexoxen while others extracted
Europium from the rare minerals in which it was
found. Special freight ships were sent out to gather
together the supply of these materials upon which the
fate of the earth depended, and rapidly the great quan-
ties of the chemical necessary were stored in the ships.
Captain Linet had proven true to his word, and, with
his great executive ability, had made himself invalu-
able.
It was a pleasant sight to see the huge old Captain,
veteran of many a storm in the air, conferring with
the slim young Holden, whose pleasant features and
soft voice gave no real notion of the immense energy,
fiery courage and scientific knowledge which he pos-
sessed.
Crews for the three ships had to be assembled. Hol-
den and Erickson picked many from among the scienti-
fic men of their acquaintance, all experts in their lines.
The Interplanetary Transportation Company recom-
mended several of their best men for the positions on
board requiring technical knowledge of the handling of
space ships, and Captain Linet also picked up a few of
his friends — brave, strong men. There were to be
fifty on each ship.
The start had been scheduled for the fifteenth of the
month, but on the tenth Professor Erickson received a
radiogram from the Seismographical Institute which
read as follows: "Observations indicate a series of
stresses approaching Pacific fault, probably aggravated
by unusual tidal action of moon in that area tenth of
next month.’’
"Gentlemen,” the old professor addressed the little
group gathered in the ofllce alloted them in the I. T. C.
building, "as you know, this is the tenth. Without
allowing for possible delays, we would just have time,
starting tomorrow, to reach the moon, distribute the
hexoxen and Europium and get out of range by the
first. That would leave us only ten days for cutting the
gaseous mass into small pieces which will drift harm-
lessly into space. If we do not have that task accom-
plished by the time indicated in this message, Los
Angeles, San Francisco, Portland and Seattle will suf-
fer the fate which overtook New York such a short
time ago.”
Holden’s face was pale as he rose and nodded to
the professor. “If Captain Linet will take the respon-
sibility of getting the crews on board, I will see that
we are ready to leave at high noon tomorrow.”
The meeting adjourned in a flurry of papers, a ring-
ing of bells, and brisk words spoken into television
transmitters.
All that night and all the next morning work went
on. At eleven A, M. the last five hundred tons of
hexoxen was loaded on the San Francisco, which was
to be the flagship; at noon exactly the huge doors
swung shut, the repulsion tubes at the stern began to
glow, and the beautiful cigar-shaped ship rose from the
earth, followed immediately by the Los Angeles and
the Ganymede. They cruised slowly, at about six hun-
dred miles per hour, until they were well out of the
earth’s atmosphere, when full power was slowly turned
on, and the trip to the moon was actually begun.
Holden and Erickson stood in the bow of the San
Francisco, watching the skilful hands of the pilot,
Edwards, as he spun the dials controlling the steering
discharges, keeping the delicate needle in the direction
indicator exactly in line with the path indicated on the
chart before him.
"How are things going, Edwards?” Holden asked.
"Fine so far. We have developed our necessary
velocity in very good time. If you would allow me a
word of advice, I would suggest that you turn in now,
as the tremendous acceleration of the last few minutes,
and the speed with which we are now traveling, are
liable to affect you disagreeably, since this is your first
trip. Our course has been plotted by the experts of
the I. T. C., and there is nothing to do now but to stay
on it.”
H olden decided that the suggestion was a good
one, as he was beginning to feel light-headed and
slightly bewildered. Erickson, however, chose to go
down to the observation room, for a glance at the
earth, and the two parted company in the hall which led
through the storage compartments, located amidships.
As Holden continued on down the hall toward his
216 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
cabin, a sudden feelinsr of danger came over him.
Memories of the clutching hands that had endeavored
to throttle the life out of him shot into his mind. He
laughed to himself, attributing the fear to the mental
disorganization suffered by travelers on their first trip
into space. He opened the door of his cabin, and
stepped inside, instinctively reaching for the light-
switch.
His hand encountered warm flesh! Swiftly he went
into action, diving for the stranger’s throat, but his
unknown antagonist had the advantage of being pre-
pared. Holden heard a soft swish, a tremendous weight
seemed to descend on him, crushing his entire body.
Buzzing lights flashed before his eyes. Then came
darkness, and he sank, unconscious, to the floor.
“Jack, Jack, my boy.” The voice came from a great
distance, slowly penetrating the great cloud which hung
over him. “Jack, what’s the matter with you?” He
realized that someone was talking to him. With a
mighty effort, he opened his eyes and endeavored to
distinguish the speaker among the thousands of objects
which whirled before his eyes. At last things settled
down, and he saw the anxious faces of Erickson and
Captain Linet bending above him.
“Somebody was in my cabin, and slugged me over the
head with a black-jack when' I came in. Look at the
wall-cabinet, will you, professor, and see if any of the
papers are missing?”
The professor stepped over to one side of the room,
and bent to examine the compartment set in the solid
metal of the wall.
“Holden,” he cried, “the intruder tried to open the
cabinet, but was unable to do so, or else you came back
sooner than he had expected. There are tool marks all
around the lock.”
"That means,” exclaimed Captain Linet, “that the
man either has tools in his cabin, or has access to the
machine shop here on board.”
Scarcely had he spoken when the floor leaped beneath
their feet, a deafening roar sounded from the bow, and
the lights went out. Sounds of running feet came
from the corridor. The three men picked themselves
up from the positions into which they had been thrown
by the force of the shock, and rushed to the door.
The emergency lights had been switched on, and they
could see fairly well by the dim illumination. They
hurried into the pilot house at the bow. Edwards was
struggling with the controls, pale but determined.
“There’s something wrong with the steering appa
ratus; we’ve run into a group of tiny meteorites, but,
thank God, they didn’t hit hard enough to penetrate the
shell. The other ships seem to be in good shape;
they’re standing by a few hundred miles away, for I’ve
signaled them not to get themselves tangled up with
this shower.”
At that moment a breathless tube-man came running
in.
“Report for you, sir, from the tube-room. Someone
tampered with the timing device that controls the feed-
ing of the charges. We can have it repaired in a few
hours.”
“Good,” snapped Edwards. “Give me all the power
you can from the emergency tubes, and keep the main
stern tubes going full.” Turning to Holden, he con-
tinued, “I’ll try to steer out of this shower by means
of the deceleration tubes, but I don't dare use up too
much of their power, and they can’t be recharged until
after we land.”
"Captain Linet,” Holden ordered, “start a search of
the ship. Go over every man’s room first, and pay
especial attention to their baggage. Read all the pri-
vate papers you can find, and see if you can’t get some
clue as to why all this is being done. By the way, do
we have any arms on board?”
Linet smiled. “While your orders didn’t cover that
matter, sir, I took the liberty to bring with me a very
complete arsenal of small arms, and three of the newly
developed rapid-fire disintegrators, using your hexoxen
as the material for the bullets. Very effective, I may
add.”
“Fine. As soon as a man is searched, and has been
entirely cleared of all shadow of suspicion, arm him.”
Erickson departed with Captain Linet, and Holden
remained in the pilot room, helping Edwards work the
ship onward. After about an hour and a half, they
had reached an area free from meteorites of dangerous
size.
“I think I can handle her myself, now. Thanks very
much,” Edwards said, and Holden departed to do a lit-
tle investigating on his own.
I N THE tube-room at the stern, he found Linet. The
doughty Captain had evidently been giving the men
a thorough raking over, for they were all looking
slightly sheepish, as men do when they have had to
reveal the most intimate details of their lives.
“All in shape here,” Linet reported. “Five of the
men I know best are searching the living quarters, un-
der command of Professor Erickson, If you will come
with me now, we will go to the observation room, where
the rest of the men are loafing while off duty.”
As they passed down the central hall in the section
where the cabins were located, a man ran out from a
side passage, saw them, and turned at full speed for
the bow.
“Stop him,” came a shout, Holden recognized the
voice as Erickson’s, The man heard it, too, for he
whirled in his tracks, whipped an old-fashioned auto-
matic pistol from his pocket, leveled it at Holden, and
took careful aim. The fraction of a second during
which his eye rested along the sights was his undoing.
Captain Linet’s hand, hidden under the loose jacket
he was wearing, pressed the release on his short-range
ray pistol, a light bluish streak touched the man’s
breast, and he fell forward, his heart literally shat-
tered by the energy of the ray.
Holden reached him first, and rolled him over. His
face was faintly familiar, and doubt changed to recog-
nition as Captain Linet exclaimed, “It’s Chambers, a
former i>etty officer on my airliner.”
It was the man who had come up to the Captain
while Holden and Erickson were conversing with him
on the bridge.
“What on earth could the man have been up to? He
must have been mad to attack me on this ship, with no
chance of escape,” exclaimed Holden. “Do you know
anything of his record. Captain?”
“Nothing whatsoever, except that he seemed honest
enough, and hard working. I was the one responsible
for his presence on board here, as he had mentioned
some knowledge of interplanetary travel, and we needed
men.”
Erickson had come up by that time.
“We found nothing in this man’s cabin except some
tools that he had evidently stolen from the machine
shop, and a code book of the type used by commercial
companies for interplanetary messages. He entered
the room while we were searching it, and bolted when
he saw us.”
The thing was puzzling, but most of the men on
board accepted the explanation that the man was mad.
THE MOON DESTROYERS
217
and had for some reason resorted to desperate meas-
ures to assure the safety of the moon. ,
“You know,” explained Captain Linet, “back a few
hundred years ago, there was the expression ‘moon-
struck’ applied to people who were mentally deranged."
At any rate, the incident was closed, as no one could
be found who might possibly have been an accomplice.
Minor damage caused by the cloud of meteorites was
repaired, and the three ships swung in close together,
heading for the satellite which they were commissioned
to destroy.
The men spent as much time as they could in their
bunks, for there was hard dangerous work ahead of
them. Huge cartridges had to be filled with hexoxen,
caps of Europium placed on top, and adjustments made
so that, after a certain time had elapsed, the catalyst
would come into contact with the hexoxen, causing a
reaction to take place which would continue almost as
long as there was solid material present to be vapor-
ized. One slip of tired hands, one miscalculation and
many men, perhaps the entire party, would suffer a
terrible fate.
Holden was busy with one of the latest and best
maps of the moon, looking for places where landing
could be made, and charting the spots where the car-
tridges would be buried. The exact time for which
every charge was to be set had to be worked out in
advance.
CHAPTER III
A Sudden Encounter
T he map of the moon was not as complete as it
could have been, either. No particular interest
had been taken in our satellite since the first
exploratory expeditions nearly fifty years before, when
it had been determined that the moon was of no value
to Earthmen, either as an outpost for colonization or a
station for the production of potver from the sun’s rays.
Jack did the best he could, however, and the little dots
he placed on the map were close enough together to
assure complete vaporization of the solid material in
less than the allotted time.
At the end of the second day out, by earth-time, the
dead satellite loomed immense, only five thousand
miles ahead. Holden was in the pilot house when
Edwards began turning on the deceleration tubes.
“I flashed your message to the other ships,” he said,
as his quick fingers touched the buttons which sent
messages to the tube-room, “telling them to stand by
and land with us. I understand that the plan is to use
these ships to travel over the surface of the moon,
making landings in such positions that expeditions can
be sent out in four directions to plant cartridges. That
will certainly give us plenty of time, if nothing goes
wrong.”
“I don’t see what could go wrong,” replied Holden,
“since that madman is out of the way.”
Eagerly he watched the dead, dust-covered surface
approach, marveling at the huge craters and precipitous
peaks.
In two hours the five thousand miles had been re-
duced to less than that many yards, and in a few more
minutes the three great ships were settling softly on the
smooth surface of the plain at the foot of Mount Julian.
Space suits were rapidly donned, the air-locks set in
operation, and the men hastily began unloading the
first four charges of hexoxen and Europium. Holden
called a meeting of the ship commanders in the pilot
room of the San Francisco.
“Commander Huges,” he addressed the man in charge
of the Los Angeles, “you will proceed toward Mount
Locke, and continue in that line until you reach the
spot marked on this chart, which is directly opposite
our present position. Rogers, you take the Ganymede,
and go at an angle of 120 degrees to Huges’ course,
toward Mount Zoga. I will continue over the Crater
of Aristotle, We will keep in constant communication
with each other by means of the space phone. Time the
charges so that they will commence to react on the
afternoon of the twenty-eighth, thus giving a sufficient
margin of time in case of delays due to parties getting
lost. That’s all.”
The Ganymede and the Los Angeles left almost im-
mediately, while men from the San Francisco set out
to plant the first charges. There were four men to
each cartridge, since it was necessary that they travel
fast.
Holden smiled as the lean figure of Professor Erick-
son, almost lost in his space-suit, bounded away in
great leaps at the head of his party. In five hours
they returned, having had no trouble at all. Edwards
manipulated the controls, and the ship rose quickly to
an altitude of about five thousand feet and headed for
the rim of the Crater of Aristotle, barely visible in
the distance. As they neared the rim, they rose higher
and higher. The mammoth cliffs of black rock towered
above them, and the meters registered a height of five
miles as they passed through a crack in the cliffs and
looked down on the level floor beneath them.
Suddenly Holden, who had been inspecting the coun-
try from one of the bow ports, uttered an exclamation
of astonishment.
“A tiny ship is rising toward us from the floor of
the crater, near the cliffs!”
There it was, a speck rapidly growing larger, headed
straight for them, and gaining velocity with every
foot it covered.
Edwards worked frantically with the controls, diving
in a zig-zag path toward the strange craft. Captain
Linet rushed in, carrying one of the light hexoxen guns.
Holden hurried to help him place it in a specially de-
signed aperture in the bow, while Erickson and the
regular radio man endeavored to establish communica-
tions with the intruder. A voice suddenly spoke from
their instrument.
“You will consider yourselves our captives. Land
at once as close as possible to the white spot you see
at the base of the cliff. If you do not obey instruc-
tions, we will ram you immediately.”
“Don’t reply for a moment,” Holden commanded, fo-
cusing his glasses in the direction indicated. As the
powerful lenses brought out every detail of the scene
below, he paled visibly.
“What’s the matter?” demanded Erickson,
‘“Matter enough,” was the amazing reply. “We’ve
run into a den of some bandits. They must be the
fiends who have been preying on the Earth-Mars ship-
ping!”
T he tremendous speed of the dive had brought them
so close that all could see, without the aid of bi-
noculars, the great skeletons of wrecked ships piled
up at the base of the precipice.
“Tell those rats to go to hell,” snapped Holden, “and
get in touch with our own ships ; use code and tell them
to get here as quickly as possible, prepared for a fight.
Get near enough to this pirate ship to open on it with
the hexoxen guns. Can you keep them from ramming
us, Edwards?”
“I think so, for a time, at least.”
The enemy’s craft was now only a few hundred
yards away, and Holden scrutinized it closely for any
sign that might give a clue to the original builders or
218 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
present owners. Not over a hundred and fifty feet in
iengrth, with no visible openings, it looked like a slightly
fattened steel needle. Its stern tubes were of the ordi-
nary type; they glowed red against the silvery back-
ground, as the enemy swooped and circled, trying to
get into position for a final, crushing blow.
“Every man in space suits,” Holden ordered. “Good
work, Linet,” he cried, as he saw a sudden pock-mark
appear in the pirate’s side, where the devastating hex-
oxen bullet had struck.
“They’ve certainly got thick plates,” remarked the
Captain, as another direct hit failed to do more than
scratch the metal. “Probably heavier up in front, if
they mean what they say about ramming. I’m going
to concentrate on the stern.”
The dull red surface of the moon, the black walls of
the crater, and the twinkling stars of outer space
mingled in a fantastic whirl as Edwards skilfully kept
the San Francisco out of the enemy’s reach, at the
same time giving Linet and the men in the observation
compartment sufficient opportunity to train their guns
on vital spots. It was a hopeless game, though, for the
smaller ship was incredibly fast.
Erickson straightened up from his position behind
the operator of the space-phone. “We can’t make any
connections with either the Ganymede or the Los An-
geles. Probably these pirates have developed a shield
which, thrown around their victims, prevents any mes-
sage from getting to the outside.”
That looked bad. Erickson switched the receiver
back to the wave-length of the enemy. A continual
stream of taunts and threats came from the loud-
speaker.
“Why don’t you surrender?” the gruff voice barked.
“You haven’t a chance against us, but if you surrender
you may be allowed to work with us, for your own
benefit as well as ours.”
“Go to hell, the formerly meek Erickson roared
into the transmitter, surprised at his own rage.
Then finally, with a desperate dash, the tiny pirate
ship darted in. Edwards did his best to swerve away
from the needle-point, but in vain. There was a shat-
tering crash; Holden felt himself hurled through the
air, but his heavy space-suit saved him from being
crushed as he hit the wall of the room. Edwards stayed
with the controls, somehow, cursing savagely.
“Only a glancing blow, but it smashed all the main
stern tubes, and evidently disabled the anti-gravita-
tional shield transmitter. We’re going down.”
Holden dashed to a port and glanced out. A welcome
sight met his eyes. The enemy, also injured, was head-
ing for home as fast as his disabled engines permitted.
“Those hexoxen bombs must have weakened his plat-
ing, BO that it sprang when he rammed us,” Edwards
exclaimed when he saw what was happening.
Slowly the San Francisco sank toward the red and
black volcanic ash of the crater floor. A hasty inspec-
tion revealed that Edwards had been correct in his
diagnosis of the trouble. Extensive repairs would be
necessary before they could proceed, but, fortunately,
no one was seriously hurt, and the main shell showed
no signs of strains or leaks;
As soon as Edwards had brought them safely to rest
on the ground, Holden called a council of war.
“From the way these chaps fight, it’s evident that
they have no weapons, other than the bow of their
ship, and possibly some short-range ray pistols, or the
still more antiquated guns using some form of explosive
to expel metal bullets. As soon as the shadow of the
cliff throws this section of the crater into darkness,
I’m going to do a little exploring, and see if I can’t
find out where these rats hide, when they’re not out
in space. Linet, you throw a line of pickets around
the ship; Edwards, get started on repairs, and Erick-
son, keep on trying to get in touch with our com-
panions.”
S CAKCELY had he finished speaking when the light
began to fade, and in a few minutes it was pitch
black. Refusing to take anyone along with him, Holden
crept out of the air-lock, and with an occasional glance
at the compass fastened inside his suit, always point-
ing toward the San Francisco, he set out in the general
direction of the wrecked space ships he had seen piled
along the base of the cliff. He made good time, despite
the weight of his suit and the poor footing afforded
by the loosely piled dust, and finally saw ahead of him
the silvery gleam of a ship’s side. Afraid to use his
light, he crept toward the bow of the craft, past a huge
hole, and reached the name-plate. Following the deeply
engraved characters, he slowly spelled out the name
"G-L-0-R-,” his heart gave a great thump. Gloriana,
the Earth-Mars passenger transport into which his own
Jean had stepped so happily a year previously!
A sudden hope flared up and then died down as he
remembered the gaping hole he had just passed. The
cowards had probably attacked without warning; the
terrible cold of outer space had flooded through the
opening made by that sharp-pointed prow, — . He could
not bear to carry the image further; with a sob in his
throat and murderous hatred in his heart, he continued
his search for the pirate stronghold.
Winding his way among other shattered ships, he
came to the base of the towering cliff, and turned to
the right along it, finding his way by constantly touch-
ing the hard rock with his gloved hand. Suddenly
there was a space where he could touch nothing, then
the texture of the material changed.
Carefully shielding the glow, he flashed a light on
the wall for a moment. It was metal, not rock! The
pirates had walled in a cave with plates from the cap-
tured transports; probably they were living within,
in all the luxury of their stolen wealth.
A few yards farther on his searching hand touched
a seam in the metal, still farther, another, evidently the
air-lock through which the pirates took their ship into
the cave. Holden eat down to think. At that moment
the wall against which he leaned began to move slowly
outward! A dim ray of light came from the opening,
which, as he turned to look, he saw to be an air-lock.
The inner door was closed, obviously someone was ex-
pected to enter. He drew a deep breath, clasped his
gun firmly in his right hand, and plunged in.
As soon as he entered, the outer door closed; he
heard valves click open, air rushed into the chamber,
and the inner door slowly opened, revealing a long
hall, dark and ominous.
Without removing the helmet of his space-suit, he
started down the hall, but had gone no more than a
few steps before he felt a hand on his sleeve, drawing
him through a darkened doorway. The door closed,
a light flashed on, and before him stood, smiling and
happy, his sweetheart, Jean!
With a single movement he flung off his helmet and
seized her in his arms. For a short, delicious moment
she clung to him, whispering those words that lovers
know so well. At last she said, “We haven’t a minute
to lose. Jack. Let me tell you all I know about this
place.”
“But Jean, how did you get here? How does it hap-
pen that you had access to the air-lock?”
“I was captured by these fiends, and am a prisoner,
THE MOON DESTROYERS
219
together with about fifteen others, only five of them
being men. All the rest were killed, either when the
pirates rammed the ships, or here, when they decided
the place was becoming crowded.” Her face paled
at the memory of the horrible massacres, but she went
bravely on.
“We have no space-suits, and the pirates, of whom
there are perhaps seventy-five, let us wander around
pretty much as we please. We know of practically
everything that goes on. I happened to hear your name
mentioned in the phone room the other day, when a
spy on your ship sent a message. When the pirates
brought their ship in, crippled by the fight, I was sure
that you were around somewhere. I have been watch-
ing ever since, making use of a sound detector pieced
together from some scraps of material I picked up un-
noticed.
“There aren’t any guards because the gang is busy
repairing the Silver Death, as they call their ship, pre-
paratory to finishing the job they started today. Oh,
Jack, you must go, now. They may be through at any
time. I don’t know when I will see you again, if ever,
but I couldn’t resist talking to you, touching you, just
once more.”
“One moment, dear. I have an idea. Is there any
compartment, farther back or lower down, where you
could gather the prisoners together, and be safe in
case the outer wall was broken down?”
“■^TES,” she replied breathlessly, “one of the older,
JL smaller caves is still airtight, and while the gang
is busy on the Silver Death we could go there and close
the locks. What good would that do, though? They
are certain you can’t get in here, or they wouldn’t
leave the place unguarded. They have your ship sur-
rounded by a wave-proof shield, so you can’t com-
municate with the others of your fleet, you know.”
“I know that, but I think I can steal a leaf from
their own book. Will they all be working, say three
hours from now?”
“I think so. Your guns did a great deal of damage,
weakening the forward structures of their craft.”
“All right. Get your friends together in the old cave
you mentioned, seal it, and then wait till I come back.”
Tenderly he kissed her good-bye, then hastened away,
anxious to get his work done before the shadow of the
cliff again receded.
Thanking the fates for the good fortune that had
saved Jean, and had led her to the airlock at the mo-
ment he was there, he stumbled over the rocks and
dust piles until halted by the picket line surrounding
the San Francisco. He called the men into the ship, and
hastened to the pilot room, where Edwards was testing
the controls.
“Any luck?”
“Yes, a lot. Can you get the ship in shape to travel
in three hours?”
“She’s in pretty good shape now, although not ca-
pable of the trip back to Earth.”
Captain Llnet entered at that moment, and with him
Professor Erickson.
Holden recounted his adventures of the last hour and
then set forth his plan.
“The cave is walled up with thin plating from the
ships the pirates have brought in here. The entire gang
is at work, repairing their own flier ; none of them, or at
least only a few, are wearing space suits. I propose
to drive the bow of the San Francisco into the wall of
their cave, previously weakening it by a few bursts
from the hexoxen guns!”
"It is possible,” replied Edwards, “but it will prob-
ably pTit us out of commission altogether.”
“In any case,” put in Erickson, “we will be rid of this
damnable shield, and can communicate with our com-
panions.”
It certainly was the only plan, for, as soon as the
pirates had repaired their ship, another unequal battle
would be waged, with the result very little in doubt.
All hands set to work completing repairs on the main
stern tubes, the only ones necessary to drive the San
Francisco forward. In less than three hours, Edwards
pronounced the work done to his satisfaction.
As the light began to creep in toward the base of
the cliff, the huge ship rose slightly off the ground, the
tubes glowed red and, guided by a powerful search-
light installed on the bow, Edwards pointed his craft
toward the gleaming metal patch that marked the po-
sition of the pirate cave.
At short range, Holden, Linet, and Erickson opened
with the three hexoxen guns. They saw the bursts take
effect on the metal. Edwards turned the power on full,
and they felt the floor leaping under them. Would the
bow of the San Francisco hold? Would they all be
crushed to death at the impact? Another moment
would tell. Holden saw the metal plates dead ahead,
could distinguish the seams marking the air-lock.
He fired one final shot, and flung himself to the floor
of the pilot room, endeavoring to find some means of
bracing himself for the shock. Then it came! Torn
from his position, he saw the plates buckling and
heaving about him. The lights went out. A great
crash sounded in his ears, and everything went black.
In a moment he regained consciousness, and staggered
to his feet, bruised and dizzy. Thank God, his space
"suit had not been harmed! A faint glow from the out-
side made things visible and he saw that the shock had
torn a huge piece out of the plating of the pilot room.
A hand clutched his elbow, and through the phone
in his space suit He heard Linet’s voice.
“Erickson and Edwards are knocked out. Let’s see
what we did to these chaps here.”
R ushing back through the corridor, they collected
,as many of the crew as were able to move, flung
open the heavy doors of the air-lock, and scrambled
down to the floor of the cave.
Here and there lay bodies, pirates caught unawares.
Suddenly Holden saw a blue flash. One of the mechan-
ics clutched at his breast and fell, dead in an instant.
“Some of these fellows are still alive. They’re using
ray pistols,” Holden shouted into his suit phone.
Even as he spoke he heard the sound of running
feet from the darkness in the rear of the cave, where
the bow of the Silver Deceth was barely visible in her
cradle, and in a moment at least fifty figures, pirates
who had somehow escaped the fatal cold of space, clad
in clumsy suits and brandishing pistols, flung them-
selves desperately upon the smaller*party.
Blue flashes were everywhere as the battle com-
menced, but the only sound was of struggling feet, with
an occasional thud as a body hit the floor. The pirates
had been weakened by their long stay on the moon,
and moved slowly, but the surprise of their attack, and
the superiority of numbers had given them some ad-
vantage. It was man to man fighting, savage and
merciless.
Holden, with a neat dive, knocked the feet from under
a huge fellow who had trained a pistol on him, and they
rolled over and over, each trying desperately to gain
a second’s advantage. He heard a dull crash to one side,
as Captain Linet, jumping high into the air, landed
220 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
with stunning force on a bewildered assailant. Think-
ing of Jean, waiting for him in some dim corner of
the cave, he redoubled his efforts.
For a fraction of a second his pistol pointed toward
his antagonist’s body, and that was enough. He pressed
the release, and the deadly ray shot into the body be-
neath him, dealing instant death. Freeing himself
from the cold grip, he ducked an empty pistol flung at
him by a new assailant. Again his finger bent, and
another body dropped to join those lying motionless on
the floor.
A fast-moving shadow caught his eye. He saw one
of the pirates detach himself from a writhing group
and head for the side of the cave. That was the place
where Jean had said she would be waiting!
Pausing only an instant to make sure that his pistol
was still charged, Holden sprang in pursuit of the
fleeing form. He saw him stoop and pick up a heavy
bar from the floor. The coward was going to burst
open the chamber where the helpless captives waited!
It was impossible to aim at that speed, so Holden forced
his flying feet to move still faster, and foot by foot he
drew closer to the man he pursued. Metal plates again
gleamed in front of him, and he saw the pirate raise
the bar high over his head, preparing for a blow which
would crush the thin plates. The tiniest hole would
mean death to the captives, who had no means of pro-
tecting themselves.
With one last desperate effort, Holden jumped, his
Earth-trained muscles carrying him high into the air,
while his pistol stabbed the partial darkness with vivid
rays. Dodging and ducking, the pirate evaded the
fatal stabs, while his bar beat a loud tattoo against the
metal. Holden struck at him with his now useless
pistol as he landed. The blow missed, and, losing his
balance, he staggered and fell, past his foe, who quickly
turned, raising his bar for a coup de grace which never
landed. The familiar flash of a pistol once more illu-
minated the scene, the bar dropped from dead hands,
and Holden scrambled to his feet.
A voice was speaking through his suit phone, and he
recognized it as Erickson’s. “I just came to, tumbled
out of that hole in the pilot room, saw the flash of your
pistol, and here I am.”
The old professor appeared, wobbling slightly, but
still game. The flashes toward the mouth of the cave
had grown fewer. Leaving Erickson to guard the com-
partment of the captives, Holden hurried back to the
fight. Even as he went, the flashes died out altogether,
and he heard Linet’s hearty voice in the phone. “Hold-
en, where are you? We’ve cleaned out them all down
here.”
Light was now flooding in from outside, and bodies
could be seen lying thick on the floor, cold and stiff in
death. Sadly Holden recognized many of them as his
own men. After a hasty conference with Linet, he
gathered together fifteen space suits, and with an escort
helping to carry them, he hurried back to Jean.
T he door of the air-lock opened as his party ap-
proached. They went in, heard the swish of air
entering, and in a few minutes the inner door swung
wide. A happy crowd of men and women surrounded
them, as they rid themselves of their helmets. Holden
felt Jean’s arms around him, her sweet lips once more
on his. For a second they clung together, then parted,
for there was work to be done. The space suits were
distributed and, as he led the way back to the San
Francisco, Jean told him briefly the details of the long
year of imprisonment.
"They gave us warning before they rammed us, as
they wanted to save the women, for a purpose you can
guess. Fortunately, there were never enough of us to
go around, and these men, exiles from two planets, were
always quarreling among themselves, so we were quite
safe. We just existed, praying that some exploring
expedition would find us, or that the Silver Death would
meet a ship too strong for her to ram and, fleeing here
for refuge, be trailed.”
Holden sighted Captain Linet hurrying toward them.
In the light now flooding the entire cavern, he could
see lines of despair and hopelessness written over the
florid face.
“What’s the matter?”
“Matter enough,” came the ominous answer. “The
space phone on our ship is entirely disabled. We won’t
be able to get in touch with the Ganymede or the Los
Angeles. In a few days, the hexoxen charges they plant
will commence to go off, and that will be the end of
us.”
Holden stopped, stunned by the news. Fleeting vis-
ions of happiness with Jean vanished into thin air. He
would be destroyed by the chemical he had invented,
with which he had hoped to save the world.
“I thought we might get out in the Silver Death,”
continued the captain, “but the entrance is entirely
blocked by our own ship, and I’m afraid it will never
move again.”
Then Jean’s clear voice cut in. "How about the space
phone on the Silver Death? Won’t it work?”
“Why, of course it will,” laughed the captain, amused
at his own stupidity.
Stumbling and tripping in their haste, the three hur-
ried through the open air lock of the pirate craft, into
the pilot room.
Holden feverishly set to work, whirling the strange
dials, pushing this button, then that. At last a faint
roar sounded in the loud speaker. Pressing his hehnet
against the transmitter, so that the vibrations would
carry his voice, he shouted, "Ganymede, Los Angeles,
Holden calling.”
“What ho?” came a cheery voice, which he recognized
as belonging to Huges, comm.-.nder of the Los Angeles.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he explained the situation.
Busy days followed. Hexoxen and Europium from the
San Francisco were transferred to the other ships, with
as much of the treasure collected by the pirates as
could be loaded into the cramped quarters.
With Huges and Rogers assisting, Holden revised
the schedule for planting the charges.
“We simply haven’t time,” he explained, “to set the
charges as close together as I had planned. There’s
nothing to do but get all of them in that we can, and
then hope that conditions in the interior of the moon
will be of a nature ^ promote the action of the
hexoxen.”
The ships’ crews understood only too well the impor-
tance and danger of their work, and during the days
that followed they toiled like a gang of madmen. Par-
ties raced each other over the rough surface of the dead
satellite, grimly determined that their efforts to save
the world should not be in vain. Even the men of the
party which had been rescued, weakened as they were
by their long stay in the pirate cave, insisted on giving
what help they could.
Finally came the day when the first charges were set
to go off. Holden sat in the pilot room of the Ganymede,
his eyes on the chronometer, while Captain Linet swept
the desolate plain with powerful binoculars for the
cloud of dust which would signal the return of the last
party.
“Five minutes yet. Captain,” Holden said in a low
THE MOON DESTROYERS
221
voice. “Tell the Los Angeles to pull out. The first
charges are scarcely two hundred miles from here, and
I’m not certain how fast the reaction will travel.”
Five minutes. Two minutes. The silver shape of the
Los Angeles was already fading in the distance. Sud-
denly a sharp shock rocked the stony bed on which the
Ganymede was resting. Simultaneously five figures ap-
peared, racing at full speed for the ship. Shock after
shock tore at the ground beneath their feet. Holden
stood at the controls, waiting for the signal that his five
comrades were safely aboard. To his tensed nerves it
seemed hours before the welcome sound came to his
ears, and with a sigh of relief he opened the power into
the stern tubes, and laughed happily as the huge ship
shot away from the heaving surface of the dying moon.
Anxious seconds passed. From the height to which
they had risen, a great part of the moon was visible,
and for the first time Holden realized the full power of
the chemical which his ingenuity had devised. Im-
mense tongues of flame ripped through the dust and
rock of the satellite, sending dense clouds of vapor bel-
lowing out into space. Mighty mountains disappeared
in an instant.
The Ganymede was traveling at full speed, and yet it
seemed as though at any moment the conflagration
might reach out, consuming the space ship in that all-
engulfing reaction. Holden manipulated the controls
with flying fingers, seeking to get every available bit of
speed from the metal monster which was carrying its
precious cargo of human beings away from a terrible
death.
Far ahead he could see the shape of the Los Angeles,
now safely outside the danger zone. Thin clouds of vapor
floated around the Ganymede, then suddenly cleared.
Captain Linet gave a shout of joy as he read the dis-
tance recorded on the dials. “Jack, my boy, we’re safe.
We’re outside the limit to which the reaction can ex-
tend.”
With the three ships playing their deadly beams on
the moon, Holden watched the immense craters, the
towering mountains, and the desolate plains of the moon
slowly vaporize.
It was an awe-inspiring sight, as this dead world
slowly melted into the nothingness of space, as though
a disease of matter were wasting it inexorably away.
No doubt, on the earth, as the contours of the moon
slowly blurred and became indistinct, with the accumu-
lation of vapor around its now ragged rim, there must
have been terror and consternation. And as the moon
slowly evaporated in the skies a virtual panic must
have ensued among the Earth’s people.
The hand of a terrible fate, or the coming of the end
of the world, must have been shouted from city to city
as the only explanation of this apparent disaster in the
heavens.
But the work had to go on . . .
For days, the Ganymede and the Los Angeles cruised
through the thin clouds, spreading between them the
anti-gravitational shield, while the sections of vapor,
freed of their mutual attraction, drifted out into un-
charted space.
It was slow, dangerous work, cutting those sections
off from the main mass, and maintaining the proper
position until they had floated off into space. Occa-
sional particles of rock, small but deadly, clattered
against the hard shell of the space ship. Fortunately,
no fragments of appreciable size were encountered; the
hexoxen had done its work thoroughly. For eight days
the powerful ray sliced and repelled. Under its influ-
ence huge clouds of vapor, the ghostly remains of the
calm globe which had innocently threatened the earth,
hurtled off into the farthest reaches of space, there to
sink at last into the substance of some flaming star.
At last the work was finished, and the two ships,
saviors of the Earth, turned their bows toward home to
carry to the awestruck people of Earth the glad news
that interplanetary commerce would be as free of pir-
ates thereafter as the Earth would be free of the dis-
astrous quakes.
And Jack Holden, at last, faced with a light heart
the honors that would be his, knowing that he could
now share them with the girl of his dreams.
THE END.
Welcome to Mr. Brandt
TT IS with pleasure that I in-
troduce to the readers of
Wonder Stories Quarterly
an old friend, and one of the
greatest living authorities on
science fiction.
Mr. C. A. Brandt has, for
many years, collected every
available science fiction story in
print that appeared in the Eng-
lish, French and German lan-
guages. He is thus an interna-
tional authority on the subject.
In 1926, when I originated
AMAZING STORIES, I en-
gaged Mr. Brandt as Literary
on the staff of that magazine, in
which capacity he remained for
a number of years.
With this issue, Mr. Brandt
C. A. BRANDT
becomes Literary Editor of
Wonder Stories and Wonder
Stories Quarterly, and it will
be the means to make these
magazines still better as time
rolls on.
Having read everything that
has gone before in science fic-
tion, Mr. Brandt is an excellent
critic on science fiction in all its
phases, and I have always been
able to rely on his clear judg-
ment.
I am happy to welcome Mr.
Brandt to Wonder Stories and
Wonder Stories Quarterly,
and I feel certain our readers
will be glad to hear of the addi-
tion to our editorial board.
Hugo Gernsback
The Revolt of the Star Men
By RAYMOND GALLON
A bulk dropped down on the nose of the craft. A pair of hands gripped the
barrels of the machine gun and tore them from the mountings.
222
\
I T WAS in the reading room of the NeUson-Aldebar
space liner, Ekova, that two young people came un-
expectedly upon a third person who sat alone, ab-
sently skimming through a copy of the Interplanetarian.
When the girl caught sight of him she uttered a little
exclamation of surprise. “Hekki — ^you!” she cried.
The one addressed looked up. A smile of greeting
came over his swarthy, aristo-
cratic features. "Hello, Jan. It
is I — none other,” he said. “Aren’t
you glad to see me?” Here he
shot a quick glance at the girl’s
companion.
“Why certainly I am, Hekki,”
she replied a trifle nervously. “But
how can it be? A week ago you
left for the deepest, most mys-
terious part of the 'Taraal desert
on Mars, to collect objects of an-
cient art, and now you are here.
Where have you kept yourself
during the voyage?”
The other smiled again — ^this
time a cryptic, secretive smile.
“Business," he said mysteriously.
“It called me to Earth at the last
moment, and since we left the
docks at Taboor, it has kept me
occupied in my state-
room. This is but the
IJiird time I have ven-
tured out of it. Alka
brought me my
meals.” Hekki arched
his finely penciled
eyebrows slightly as
he looked up at the
lady's companion.
“And you too have
had business, Janice,”
he added. “A new boy
friend?” There was a
hint of something un-
pleasant in his tone,
but the girl ignored
it.
She nodded her
golden head. “We met
on the night of the
departure from Mars,
and since then, we’ve
had a happy week to-
gether. Austin,” she
said, turning to the
youth, “I want you to
know Hekalu Selba of
Taboor. Hekki, this is
Austin Shelby, who
hails from Chicago.
You ought to get
along well together,
because you are both
so interested in me-
chanics,” she added. The men shook hands. For the
past few moments Shelby had been trying to analyze
from the scanty data at hand the character of Hekki.
He saw the tapering, effeminate hands — one twiddled
nervously a long Martian cigarette — the dark straight
hair and fine features; the mouth, that could curl
insolently; the faultless, white silk clothing.
Shelby decided that he did not like Hekki. The rea-
son at first seemed obvious, but presently the young
Earthman realized that his feeling towards this child of
the Red Planet was stronger than mere dislike. What
was the explanation? Was it because Hekki was a
friend of Janice Darell? Since he had met her aboard
the Ekova on this glorious return
to Earth, after having spent a
whole Martian year at an engi-
neering school at Taboor, Shelby
had learned to know love. Was he
jealous of this noble of another
world? A little, perhaps. But
this did not account for the vague,
sinister aura he sensed about
Hekalu Selba.
Something in Shelby's brain
was trying to surge its way to
the surface of his consciousness;
he struggled with it, and it came
out clear. Only thirty-six hours
before, during the period desig-
nated for sleep, he had wandered
into a seldom frequented pas-
sageway, high up in the hull of
the Ekova. Here there were port-
holes through which he could see
the curving metal ex-
panse of the ship’s
huge form, gleaming
dimly under the stars
of space. It had
looked like the back
of a great silver
whale.
For a minute or
two he had stared ab-
sently through the
little circular window,
and then, hearing
footsteps down the
corridor, he had
turned to see two fig-
ures some hundred
feet distant moving
away from him. They
had obviously entered
from a side passage
and had probably not
seen him. One had
been this very Hekalu
Selba ; Austin was
sure of it. Beside him
had moved a shadow.
The Earthman had
not seen it clearly, for
the i 1 1 u m i n a 1 1 ng
globes burning here
during the sleep peri-
od were dim and far
between.
He had but a vague
fleeting impression of a huge knotty form, bent and
grotesque. Its arms were so long that its big hands al-
most dragged on the floor. Its head was very large and
bulbous. The pair had seemed to carry something heavy
between them, but Austin had not seen what it was. In
a moment the Martian had opened a door in the side of
THE REVOLT OF THE STAR MEN
By ike Author of **The Space Dwellers’*
so
RAYMOND GALLUN
'' I '‘HE creatures that people this exciting
story of Mr. Gallun, may seem at first
blush to be impossible monstrosities. Yet, on
consideration, we must realize that they are
not so far-fetched.
Even in our picayune little corner of the
universe, we find in the insect kingdom a
form of life that has survived through every
possible earth catastrophe in the last 40,000,-
000 years. With their skeletons on the out-
side of their bodies instead of on the inside,
insects are able to protect their bodies from
heat, cold, and from accidents that would
kill us. If the insect’s shell were harder and
thicker and made of heat-resisting material,
it might conceivably be able to live in space
without other protection.
The point is that Mr. Gallun makes his
Space Men so convincing that we can do
nothing but believe in them. And he has
woven about them such a thrilling story of
adventure on two worlds that one will have
to read and reread it, to get from it the full-
est enjoyment.
223
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
224
the passage and the two had vanished into it.
When Austin had returned to his stateroom, he was
not quite sure he had really seen the monstrous horror.
Surely nothing like it was known to exist within the
orbit of Jupiter! Shelby had thought of reporting the
incident to the commander of the vessel, but he had
dismissed the idea as too pointless. Now, however,
the memory of that vague black form was haunting
him. He knew that it was the key, in part at least, to
his feeling toward Hekalu Selba.
The Martian had cast his magazine aside. He was
patting the soft cushions of the divan on which he was
lounging. "Sit here, my friends,” he said in his smooth,
precise English. “We shall talk, and then perhaps we
shall have a little refreshment.” The two complied.
“It will be only for a moment,” said the girl. “The
ship lands in an hour, and I haven’t gathered my things
together yet.”
Shelby was intensely interested in this queer indi-
vidual, about whose personality there lingered a
strangely indefinable web of mystery — of evil, almost.
"So you too have a passion for mechanics,” he said.
“Somewhere I am sure I have heard of you before.
Kelang Aggar, an instructor of mine at Taboor, spoke
occasionally of a young Martian student — ”
“Kelang Aggar is my friend,” Hekki broke in. “He
assisted me with several experiments. But they were
nothing — a new alloy, very hard, and having a high
point of fusion. The heads of the Space Ship Construc-
tion Company said it was ideal for rocket nozzles, but
they paid me a mere pittance for the invention. This,
and a few even lesser ones are my sole accomplishments
in the line of mechanics.” Hekalu Selba laughed
lightly.
“Let us talk of other things, my friends,” he con-
tinued. “Let us allow our minds to ramble. See those
two beautiful potted palms over there — children of the
deserts of Earth, and beside them the slender graceful
stem of the purple Kelan, dug from the marshes along
the Selgur waterway of my own planet. I have seen
them both in their native habitat, waving their fronds
as though in cadence with some great silent symphony
of the universe. See that tapestry over yonder, with the
beast woven into it?”
H ere Janice Darell pointed up toward the flattened
glass dome that roofed the room. “Thelre is old
Mother Earth looking down at us, and the sun is peeping
around her rim,” she said. “See how the light of Sol
sifts through the terrestrial atmosphere. There is a
streak of red, of gold, of opal, and beyond are the stars
and the blackness of space.”
“The contrast of the forces of darkness with those of
light,” Shelby put in softly.
Hekki was smiling absently. “There are many con-
trasts,” he mused. “The contrast of life and death, of
power and weakness, of nightmare and reality.”
Words popped into Austin Shelby’s head, and, care-
lessly, he uttered them without thinking: “You often
walk with your nightmares, don’t you, Hekalu?”
A hard light came into the Martian’s eyes as he stared
straight at the Earthman. “Perhaps,” he said, “and you,
Mr. Shelby, often walk in your sleep!” But apparently
the incident was immediately forgotten.
Austin wondered how much the girl knew about the
luxurious Hekalu. A quick glance of intelligence passed
between them.
“I’ll have to pack now,” Janice said. “Won’t you boys
walk along with me a little ways?” She took Austin’s
arm as they arose. Hekki fell in beside them. At the
entrance to the corridor which led to the girl’s state-
room they paused.
"My business will occupy me tonight and tomorrow,”
said Hekalu, “so I shall bid yo goodbye until, let us say,
the following evening, Jan, but if you like I shall have
Alka take you home,”
“Mr. Shelby has asked permission to perform that lit-
tle service, you industrious old business man,” she re-
plied mischievously. And again that dark shadow
flickered momentarily on the Martian’s features.
“But you will let me see you the day after tomor-
row?” he asked. “I have found a little paradise out at
Oak Park patterned after the fairy palaces of my own
planet, and besides, I have a new jewel to show you.”
“Fie on your jewels, Hekki,” she smiled, adopting
the stiff trite speech the Martians often fell into. “But
anyway, perhaps I shall favor you with my incompar-
able company. The time you mention is still a ways
away. Sidi yadi* my friend. Remember I shall be
expecting a view-phone call from you soon.” Then turn-
ing to Shelby: “I’ll meet you in the lounge right after
the boat lands. Don’t fail me!”
“You needn’t worry about that, Jan,” he assured her.
In a moment she was hurrying up the corridor in
the pink glow of the lights. As Austin gazed after
her, he could not help but think how wonderful was
this fluffy little wisp of blonde beauty. Was she for
him? Over her he felt there lurked a dark shadow,
but this only strengthened the spell she had cast over
him, for it gave to him the pleasure which virile males
experience when they know that their loved one requires
protection.
Hekki cleared his throat to attract the attention of
his companion. When Shelby turned toward him he
was fumbling in one of the voluminous sleeve pockets
of his blouse. Presently he drew forth a very thin
rectangle of a substance resembling ivory, and handed
it to the Earthman. Shelby glanced at it. It was one
of the name cards commonly used by Martian men. It
bore the legend in the interplanetary symbols:
Hekalu Selba, Akar
414 Teldasa
Taboor, P. 4.
Beneath in small letters appeared Hekki’s Chicago
address.
“I shall want to see you again soon, my friend,” said
the Martian cordially. “There are many things at my
establishment which I would like to show you — much
that we can talk about.”
Austin Shelby aocepted the card and handed Hekki
his own. Here was an opportunity to get some first
hand information on the mysterious man of Mars and
his more mysterious, perhaps sinister doings. The idea
that he might be placing himself in a dangerous posi-
tion, Shelby gave scarcely a moment’s thought, for he
had in him the spirit of the adventurer.
“Thank you, Akar Hekalu. I shall get in touch with
you. And in the meanwhile you can reach me at my
address through the view-phone at almost any time for
I shall be working on a new mechanism there. Sidi
yadi."
"Sidi yadi, my friend.”
The two men parted.
F ifteen minutes later a rustling whisper was
audible throughout the Ekova, above the steady
purr of the forward-pointing decelerating rockets. It
became a deep-toned soughing which rapidly increased
in volume to a loud roar, and then to a screeching hiss.
The ship swayed and rocked a little. It was tearing its
way into the terrestrial atmosphere.
* Martian farewell.
THE REVOLT OF
In the conning tower forward, the pilot and his as-
sistant were working calmly and cooly over the be-
wildering array of controlling mechanisms. Getting
those thousands of tons of metal safely lowered into a
space ship’s cradle on the landing stage, was a difficult
task, but the experience and efficiency of the two men
was quite competent to cope with it.
Far below was a vast sea of winking lights — Chicago,
its colossal skyscrapers looming up severe and white
and beautiful in the glow.
The pilot’s nimble fingers turned a small horizontal
wheel at his side. The liner dipped and dropped slowly
earthward toward an area of white light. A mass of
cloud poured over the huge hull for an instant and then
passed by. The outer shell of the great silvery whale
which had been chilled to a degree from absolute zero,
by the cold of space had been warmed but slightly by
the rapid passage through the atmosphere and now
gleamed with jewel-like hoar frost.
Down, down it fioated until it was only three hundred
feet above the landing stage. A red signal light gleamed
suddenly on a panel within the control room, and the
wizard of that eerie chamber shifted a tiny lever. The
space ship halted and hung motionless supported by its
repulsion plates. On the ground in the glare of flood-
lights white-clad men hurried about. Four mighty
arms of metal groped upward from a mass of heavy
framework. They clutched the craft with a grating
noise, and then, with the slow deliberation of a sleepy
giant, they drew it gently down into its cradle.
Within the Ekova all was abustle. Its doors, built
solidly like the breeches of big cannons, swung open,
permitting the cool night air to enter the ship, which
for seven days had been a world sufficient unto itself.
Gangplanks were let down, and the passengers, jesting
gaily with one another began their leisurely descent
to the ground. Customs officials worked feverishly. A
webby derrick arm pointing out from an opening in
the side of the liner, was unloading mail and costly
material and equipment sent to Earth from the Red
Planet.
The routine processes of debarkation over, Shelby
and Janice Darell entered the covered causeway which
led to the great terminal building of the Space Travel
Company.
The two had caught but a fleeting glimpse of Hekki.
He was talking earnestly to a white-clad official, and
had not seen them; nor had they tried to attract his
attention. Conspicuous among the Martian’s numerous
possessions was a large basket of metal wickerwork,
such as were commonly used to convey dogs and
similiar pets from place to place. The sight of that
basket had aroused again in Shelby’s mind that peculiar
sense of the presence of something sinister. Was the
monster he had seen in Hekalu Selba’s company hidden
within that case of woven wire?
Within the causeway was a moving walk which car-
ried Shelby and his companion to the depot. Here the
intermittent whirring of pneumatic tube-cars operating
in a vast network throughout the city was audible. The
young Earthian pair, and the two attendants bearing
their light luggage entered an elevator, which carried
them swiftly to the landing platform for atmospheric
craft on the roof of the building.
Shelby presented his identification tag and gave the
number of his plane to the official in charge. The man
led the way to a hangar at the side of the platform.
Shelby had sent an order by radio to the Sutherland
Aircraft Company a few hours before, and, complying
with his request, a bright new flier had been delivered
and housed here, awaiting his arrival.
THE STAR MEN 225
The official closed a switch on the wall of the building,
and the hangar door rolled open. While the two
Earthians were entering the craft the attendants quick-
ly placed the luggage into the load compartment.
Shelby fumbled with the destination mechanism and
pressed the starting lever. The propellers, whirled at
high speed by the soundless atomic motor, thrummed
softly. In a moment, the plane, unguided by human
hands, hoisted itself almost vertically into the night
and was off. Unerringly it would carry its occupants
to their destination.
CHAPTER II
A Strange Story
S HELBY looked down at his companion. For a time
she had been strangely quiet. Could it be that
there was just a hint of a troubled look on her
beautiful face? The young engineer felt himself drawn
to her more than ever. He wanted to know more about
his new Martian acquaintance, but he disliked to ask
a direct question concerning him, for he feared vaguely
that it might give her offense.
“Jan,” he said, “you look worried. Is anything
wrong?”
She shook her head, slowly, absently, without looking
at him. “No, I was just thinking.” She paused, and
then in the same absent manner she continued: “Only
Hekalu Selba is back, and I thought I was rid of him.”
Reassured somewhat by her words, but still taking
care to conceal any hint of the menace he had sensed
about the Martian, Shelby asked : “What possible differ-
ence can his presence in Chicago mean to you? He
seemed to me to be a very ordinary Martian nobleman —
evidently supplied with plenty of money, and having no
other motive in life than to enjoy himself, and perhaps
to help others enjoy themselves. A perfectly harmless
individual.”
Janice’s face grew serious. “You say those things
because you do not know Hekki,” she said. “Shall I
tell you about him? It would relieve me to share my
knowledge with someone.”
The young man nodded but made no comment.
“Two years ago,” she began, “I went to Taboor on
Mars to study sculpture. Not long after my arrival at
school, in the company of a number of other art stu-
dents, I attended a ball given at a glorious old palace
in the heart of the ancient Martian quarter. Our
gracious host was Hekalu Selba himself. I met him,
danced with him, and talked with him. From the first
he was attracted to me and I to him, and so we were
often together.
“Though some of his peculiar affectations were ob-
noxious to me, I thought that his good qualities far
overbalanced his failings. He seemed always kind and
considerate in his dealings with all about him; he was
well informed on almost every possible subject; he
painted pictures and played various musical instruments
with a skill that was little short of genius, and his
tales of his travels and adventures in the little-known
region beyond the orbits of the minor planets could not
fail to delight any listeners. Dreamer and brilliant
artist— that was Hekki as I saw him then. Effeminate
— yes, but brave and resourceful too.
“Our intimacy grew. He made frequent propesals of
marriage to me, but I put him off, saying that I was not
sure I loved him. I informed Father back here in
Chicago of our friendship. His next letter showed
plainly his enthusiasm over the idea of the possible
marriage of his daughter with this young noble of the
ancient Martian house of Selba. ‘Get him, Jan,’ he
wrote. ‘He’d be the catch of a lifetime. Why, his total
226 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
assets would make the treasure of Croesus look like a
little piece of twisted copper wire.’ Poor practical old
Dad! For once his business judgment was in the wrong.
It was well that I did not follow his advice.”
At this point Jan’s story was interrupted by the
sudden dropping of the plane. They had reached their
destination. The craft descended vertically and landed
with a light impact in the center of a small private roof
garden at the summit of a great apartment building.
"Dad won’t be home now,” said Jan. “He was de-
layed in New York, and will not appear until tomorrow.
There isn’t anyone else around here except old Rufus,
so we needn’t go down stairs. Let’s sit over there in-
stead.” She pointed toward a quaintly wrought bench
beside a splashing fountain. The moon was shining,
and the solitary cypress tree cast a spear-like shadow
over the pool. There was a faint fragrance of flowers
in the night.
Janice and Shelby seated themselves and the girl
continued :
“Shortly after my meeting with Hekalu Selba rumors
began to come to me. Men died mysteriously, and there
were people who made vague hints that my noble friend
was responsible. An uncle of Hekki’s had made him the
princip^ heir to his fortune — shortly afterward the
uncle contracted a virulent disease and passed away.
On both planets men that were obnoxious to Hekki were
murdered — capable business rivals and people who per-
haps ‘knew too much.’ Always the circumstances of
their deaths were peculiar. Frequently they were found
in locked rooms to which an assassin could scarcely
have gained entrance without breaking his way. But
such violent methods had not been used. Never was
there a shred of evidence to implicate the noble.
“T3UT I was beginning to see Hekalu’s true color.
The lavish display of his wealth — his estates and
his art treasures, and the endless round of good times
he sought to provide, were merely an attempt to cover
up his wickedness. One afternoon that I was with
him, he was under the influence of the Elar drug. His
face was red and his eyes gleamed with a wicked light.
He proposed to me again, and when I made an angry
refusal he threatened me — said that if there was an-
other whom I loved he would destroy him and me too.
“That, I assured myself, was the end. Hekki tried to
make up, but when he found that I would have nothing
to do with him he vanished. I think he went off into
the outer regions of the solar system again. He was
gone for a long time, and I devoted myself entirely to
my studies.
“Then suddenly, out of the blue, I received a letter
from Hekki. It came from a small village far to the
west of Taboor. A gift accompanied it. Hekki in-
formed me that in a valley far out in the unexplored
Taraal desert he had run across a ruined city built by
the Melbar kings some seventy-five thousand years ago.
He hoped to make an enormous fortune from the art
treasures he had found there.
“The gift and the small photograph he sent me, I shall
show you at the first opportunity. They are packed
away now. The former is a dagger with a flexible
blade of a shiny black substance unknown to me. It
does not seem to be metal. The hilt is a lump of
platinum. It is carved to represent some strange animal
with scores of coiling tentacles. Hekki says that the
object is one of his treasures, found on the site of the
ancient city. But I have doubted this. I know some-
thing of the art of the Melbar kings, and certainly the
dagger does not resemble the products of their crafts-
men. The same is true of those wares of Hekki’s which
my friends have bought. They are strange — belonging
neither to Earth nor Mars.
“The picture toa is equally puzzling. It depicts a
night scene in a desert valley. Jagged hills in the
distance and the nearer moon of Mars in the sky. The
floor of the valley is in shadow and things there are
indistinct. There are shapes there — ^vast shapes, odd
and grotesque. And there is something in the fore-
ground which might be almost human!
“In his letter Hekki asked if he might see me again,
and I immediately wrote and told him that I would.
To you, Austin, this probably seems a crazy thing to do,
but like most everyone who is young, I had a genuine
love for intrigue and mystery, even though they might
be dangerous things to meddle with.
“Hekalu came to Taboor, but I saw comparatively
little of him. He seemed always to be tremendously
busy. Sometimes he would be extravagantly jubilant,
as though he had met with some tremendous success,
or again he would apparently be worried almost to the
point of madness. What these emotional changes
meant, he would never tell me.
“Several times old Alka, his favorite slave, spoke to
me. ‘The Master is not as he used to be, Miss Darell,’
he would say. ‘He works feverishly with odd mechan-
isms, and every night when he is at home he stares out
into space toward the farther planets with his new
super-telescope. Always, what he sees makes his face
turn white and hard; sometimes, he smiles and some-
times his features look like a devil’s mask.’
“And still Hekki’s weird treasures continued, and still
continue to come from the Taraal.
“A group of men was sent by the heads of the Place
of Knowledge out into the desert to investigate. They
disappeared. The officials of the Planetary Patrol made
only a hasty and unsuccessful investigation.
“On the day of my departure from Mara, after having
finished my course, I saw Hekki, believing that it was
for the last time. He said he was going back into the
Taraal. And then he popped up on the liner. And
that, Austin, is all I know about Hekalu Selba. What
do you make of it? What is he trying to do out there
in the desert?” She placed her hand lightly on Shelby’s
arm and looked up appealingly into his face. “Can’t
you offer some suggestions, Austin? You know that
when suspicious events are troubling you, a plausible
explanation eases your mind even though you cannot
know the truth. And I am afraid, afraid that he is
deliberately following me to Earth!”
While Jan Kad been telling of her acquaintance with
the Martian, Austin had been staring at a very large
Sadu moth which hovered, and leisurely moved about
on thrumming gorgeous wings, which spanned fully
eighteen inches. It moved from blossom to blossom in a
nearby flower bed, delicately sipping nectar. Always its
great luminous eyes, which glowed like coals of gleam-
ing fire, were turned toward the pair. Shelby had
scarcely noticed it, for he was absorbed with the girl’s
account; but now, when it edged closer towards them,
and then made a sudden mischievous swoop not six
inches above their heads, its presence could no longer
be ignored. The girl gave an exclamation of revulsion
and shrank involuntarily toward her companion. He
leaped to his feet, and picking up a pebble from beside
the fountain, hurled it at the night prowler.
“You dirty eavesdropper!” he shouted angrily. “The
man who brought your kind from Mars for ornamental
pu?;po3es must have been crazy!”
THE REVOLT OF
T he moth buzzed up into the cypress tree and
squatted there, silently, apparently resting. Only
its eyes continued to glare fixedly, almost malignantly
at the occupants of the garden. But they quickly for-
got about its presence.
"I don't know whether I can offer a sensible ex-
planation for Hekalu’s actions or not, Jan,” Shelby
said. “However, as far as his activities in the Taraal
are concerned, it seems quite possible that he did dis-
cover ruins there, and is trying to keep other fortune
seekers away. The ruins may of course not really be-
long to the Melbar dynasty. They might have been
built by some contemporary race. Just what he is
doing among the minor planets, we can’t any more
than guess at. Probably he's just adventuring like a
few other people. And as for his following you to
Earth — ^well, I admit that you do seem to be popular!”
“You’re making it sound awfully simple, Austin,”
said Jan, She paused and thought for a moment, and
then, with seeming irrelevance she continued : “Haven’t
you heard of queer clusters of luminous specks recently
seen by astronomers not far beyond Mars? They
called them meteor clusters, but they drifted about here
and there, not following definite paths as meteors
should do.”
“You’re trying to suggest that they are space ships,
aren’t you, Jan?”
She nodded.
“But they aren’t,” Shelby assured her, “They don’t
polarize the reflected light of the sun as space ships do.
Besides, where could they have been built? Certainly
not among the planetoids. And any place on the planets,
the Taraal desert for instance, would be an almost
equally impossible site for their construction.
“Think of the enormous crews of men and the vast
supplies of food and water and materials that would
have to be taken out there into the wilderness. Un-
doubtedly Hekalu could back such a project financially,
but he would be discovered before he had made a fair
start, and the Martian Planet Patrol would wipe him
out of existence. Still, though I don’t think that the
luminous specks are man-built vessels, I am equally
certain that they aren’t meteors either,”
“Then what are they?”
The young man smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know,”
he said. The intuitive feeling that unknown, and not
too beneficient forces were at work in the ether about,
was troubling him again, making his scalp muscles
tingle.
For a moment Shelby stared at the ground. “Jan,”
he said, “I didn’t tell you what I saw on the liner. I
didn’t tell anyone because I don’t want to be called a
lunatic. But I guess it’s all right to let you in on this
now. Briefly, during the sleep period, I came upon
Hekalu Selba prowling in a passageway aboard the
Ekova, in the company of a vague thing that may have
been similar to that shape in the photograph — ^long
arms, big head, squat and muscular. If we knew what
that thing was, and where it came from, the snarl
might be half untangled.”
Janice Bareli’s face took on a sudden surprised look.
“You actually saw what you say you saw?” she cried.
When her companion nodded, she continued excitedly
with wide-open eyes. “I still believe that Hekalu
knows something about the meteor cluster. And the
beast figures in somewhere too. Austin,” she cried,
“what if Hekki is trying something really great? I
know you don’t take stock in any such idea, but just
supposing he is — what if — ”
THE STAR MEN 227
“Let him try!” the young man cut in. “I almost wish
he would ! I’m afraid he would get the surprise of his
life.” He was staring straight at the unwinking,
malignant eyes of the Sadu moth,
“What do you mean?”
Shelby drew a small black case from his sleeve pocket
and opened it. He took from it a device which looked
like a tiny pistol. There were several other odds and
ends of mechanisms in the case, “For a year I have
been working on a new weapon,” he said. “All the
parts are completed, and tonight I shall finish assem-
bling them. This little gun is the projector for a new
ray which I have discovered — an etheric vibration of
extremely short wavelength. A portion of the atomic
energy in any solid or liquid substance the ray touches
is instantly released.
“You doubt whether it is effective? Well, I can’t give
you any proof now; I can only say that when I was
back on Mars, fooling with my first cumbersome pro-
jector, which produced only the weakest of vibrations,
I blasted a big hole in the wall of my apartment, and
nearly killed the Martian physician who lived in the
rooms next to mine. I had a devil of a time explaining
the explosion, and narrowly missed getting myself into
serious trouble. In a few days I shall try to sell the
weapon to the Earth Government. If they are con-
vinced of its value, and I don’t see how they can help
but be convinced, our friend from the Red Planet will
have to be very careful if he tries anything.”
Shelby glanced at his wrist watch, “Eleven thirty —
my bed time,” he said with mock seriousness, “But
Jan, there’s one favor I want to ask you before I go.
Try not to see anymore of Hekalu Selba, Akar.”
Janice Bareli made a valiant attempt to act the part
of one whose pride and sense of freedom had been
deeply outraged. “Mr. Shelby,” she said, “what right
have you to tell me what I shall or shall not do?” But
a light laugh broke from her lips and spoiled her bluff,
“There are two reasons,” replied her companion seri-
ously. “First, because we both believe that Hekalu
Selba is daygerous; second — because I love you.” He
leaned closer toward her with the light of eagerness in
his eyes. “Oh, I know I’m crude, Jan,” he said passion-
ately. “I’m just a clumsy engineer, not a poet or
ladies’ man. What I’m trying to say to you must seem
awfully trite, but anyway, I want you with me always.”
“You mean — ?”
He nodded.
“All right, Austin,” she said quietly, looking straight
into his eyes.
His arms crept around her, and now he drew her
gently to him.
Some moments later, in the nearby pergola, the door
which led to the rooms below opened, and an ancient
negro clad in gaudy pajamas and bathrobe peered out
into the garden. He saw the pair and recognized the
girl. A happy grin came over his wrinkled black face.
“Well, if dat ain’t a mos’ pretty sight to look at,” he
muttered. “My baby done come back at las’, and dat
sho’ am a han’some boy she got dar!” He turned, and
leaving the door open and the light burning on the
stair, descended. Very softly and wistfully he was
crooning an old darky love song.
It was an hour later before Shelby’s craft whirred
up into the moon-bathed night over the winking lights
of the city. And at the same time the big-eyed Sadu
moth which had been crouching in the cypress tree, rose
on its velvety wings and sped away, as though some
urgent mission had suddenly claimed its attention.
228 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
CHAPTER III
Hekki’s Proposal
W HEN Shelby reached hia apartment, he imme-
diately donned his laboratory smock and set to
work. But he had scarcely finished mounting a
tiny coil of wire within the hand-grip of his weapon,
when the view-phone bell rang insistently.
The inventor pulled off his smock and threw it over
the materials on his work bench, so that the person
at the other end of the view-phone connection, whoever
It was, would not be able to see them. Then he snapped
the television and audio switches. The mists in the
view-plate cleared, and there before him, as real as
though he were actually in the room, sat Hekalu Selba.
The Martian’s eyes gleamed with suppressed ex-
citement.
"Mr. Shelby,” he was saying, "it may seem strange
that I should be calling you so soon, but I have some-
thing simply colossal to talk over with you. You must
come up to my place immediately! I realize that yoi
may be very busy, but this is important!” And he
added, "It’s nothing to discuss over the view-phone
Will you come? — please!”
Shelby was about to make a cold reply, but he checked
himself. An intense curiosity gripped him.
"All right, Akar Hekalu,” he said. "I’ll be there.”
The switches clicked.
Hastily Austin changed to his street clothes, and then
gathered together the material for his weapon and
placed them in the wall safe. Only one thing he selected
from the jumble of appartus — a tiny pinkish crystal,
without which it was impossible to produce the Atomic
Ray. This he secreted in a hollow button on his sleeve.
For a long moment he stared at his automatic, which
lay on his work bench. "Better take you along,” he
muttered at length, " — may need you.”
A wizened black-clad man whom Shelby surmised was
the slave Alka, met him at the entrance on the landing
platform of a quaint Martian tower atop a huge apart-
ment building, and ushered him into an elevator. He
was whisked rapidly downward, and emerged into the
central light-well which pierced the structure from top
to bottom. The barbaric tapestries upon the walls of
this tall cylindrical chamber, the tiling of the floor,
which consisted of squares and circles and spear points
of various colored stone, fitted artfully together, giving
an effect of pleasant disorder. And most of all, the
smell of strange incense in the air, told Shelby that he
had dropped into a little bit of old Pagar or Mars.
Evidently the Prince of Selba was master of the entire
tower, which, in itself, was by no means small.
AUca led the way down a short passage, and admitted
the Earthman to a large sumptuously furnished room,
one end of which was softly Illuminated by a quaintly
beautiful floor lamp. The farther end of the room was
in complete darkness. The Pagarian architects had
made it imitate the interior of a natural cavern, for
where the light approached the gloom, two glassy stal-
actites gleamed with a scintillant elfin light.
Shelby had but a moment to take note of his sur-
roundings — the dark hangings woven with silver
threads, the embossed shield and spear of an ancient
Martian warrior mounted on the wall — before Hekalu
entered. The young man saw at once that the noble
had lost his air of bored languor which he had noticed
about him at the time of their first meeting. His eyes
flashed with excitement and his movements were quick
and cat-like.
"I see that you have come quickly, Mr. Shelby,” said
the Martian, “and I am glad. Won’t you sit down?”
With scarcely a pause he continued: “I have great
wealth, my friend, and while your means do not seem
to be small, I believe that it would be very convenient
to you to have them supplemented. Suppose I gave
you say, ten times as many jewels as are in the tray
over on that stand?” Shelby looked in the direction the
Martian indicated. He saw a flat shallow container of
considerable size. At its center squatted a repulsive
thing about eight inches high, carved from a clear
crystalline substance from which there flashed countless
points of icy, wicked fire — a huge diamond!
Heaped around it were hundreds of magnificent red
tabalti, most prized of all gems. An expert appraiser
had recently told Shelby that in two worlds only thir-
teen of them were known to exist. And now he was
being offered all these stones by one who hinted that
he was willing to give him ten times as many — an
utterly staggering fortune !
Hekalu’s words fairly dumbfounded Shelby, but they
grated upon his sense of pride as well. Nevertheless,
his face gave no hint of what passed through his mind.
An angry reply, he decided, was out of place.
“Naturally, Akar Hekalu, you want something in re-
turn for your amazing generosity,” he said coolly. "Of
course, I could not accept your offer under any other
circumstances.”
The Martian nodded. "I have it from a reliable
source, Mr. Shelby, that you are the inventor of a
terrible weapon — an atomic ray which might be danger-
ous in the hands of unworthy persons. Turn the
weapon over to me as well as all information concerning
its operation and construction, and promise to say not
a word more about the weapon to anyone, and I will
give you the jewels at once.”
A flash of surprise passed across Shelby’s face but
he quickly masked it. So this was it! But how was
it that the noble had learned of his invention ? Could it
be that Janice Darell was playing a double hand? —
his Jan. He dismissed the idea as preposterous and
utterly disloyal.
T he Earthman rose to his feet and addressed the
Martian coldly. "If I have such a device I believe
that I can place it in better hands than yours.”
Hekalu Selba’s face gave no hint of anger; in fact
he seemed at the point of laughing. “You have done
as I expected you would. Your refusal shows me how
patriotic you are and gratifies me very much, Mr.
Shelby,” he said blandly. "You are as a man of Earth
should be. However, there is another side to the ques-
tion. I have certain plans and to have you at large
might endanger their fulfillment. Therefore I must ask
you to accompany me on a' little trip. That weapon of
yours will be well taken care of. Now, kindly raise
your hands high above your head.” The Martian was
pointing a be jeweled automatic straight at the chest of
his visitor. "You are being covered from two other
points in this room so try not to cause any misunder-
standing,” he added.
Shelby saw the wisdom of obeying the order for he
felt quite certain that Hekalu Selba and his minions
would not hesitate to shoot him down. What a colossal
idiot he had been ! He had sensed a trap when the noble
had called him over the view-phone and yet he had taken
no sensible precautions !
Hekki was searching him now. His long fingers were
moving deftly from pocket to pocket. They closed upon
his automatic and drew it forth. "Ah,” the Martian
breathed, “it’s as I thought. You have brought a souv-
enir. A most worthy precaution. And, now that you
are no longer in a position to cause any trouble,” he
THE REVOLT OF THE STAR MEN
229
continued sneeringly, “I may as well tell you about my
ambition — Oh, it Is simple enough; men have thought
of it before but none had the nerve or ability to put it
over. Briefly it is this — to become Master of both
Earth and Mars! My friends are waiting for me out
there beyond the Red Planet — waiting for their com-
mander. And there is another little hope — ^there is a
certain beautiful flower of your race — ” Here he stop-
ped to allow his captive to imagine the rest.
A hard light came into Austin Shelby’s eyes. It was
the only outward indication of the sudden tornado of
emotions and thoughts that swirled in his mind. This
man sought to enforce his will upon the planets! The
question of whether he was capable of realizing this
tremendous dream or not, the Earthman did not pause
to debate.
Fifty years before, Saranov had attempted it, and
as a result a score of great cities became shambles.
Certainly the present foe of mankind was more power-
ful than Saranov. The monstrous associate of Hekalu
and the flitting specks of light far beyond Mars seemed
to bear out the nobleman’s boast. And if he somehow
got possession of the Atomic Ray! And Jan — What
was he going to do to Jan! Certainly it was she to
whom he had referred! It was this last idea which
hammered on Shelby’s brain hardest -of all. A little
fiend within him seemed to shriek. "Escape ! Send your
weapon to the War Office! Kill Selba if you can, for
everything is at stake!’’ Escape, yes, but how?
"Place your wrists together behind your back now,"
Hekalu was saying, "I have a pair of magnificent
manacles — careful. Do not make an abrupt movement.”
A crazy idea had come into the Earthman’s mind.
He did not expect his plan to work but it was all he
could do. With an air of one resigned to his fate, he
obeyed the order. He felt the Martian fumbling with
the manacles. He was evidently using only one hand.
The other presumably still held the automatic leveled
at Shelby’s back. But it was useless to think of such
things.
A slim finger touched the young engineer’s wrist.
He caught it, twisted it back at the same time, then,
summoning all the quickness and force he could muster,
he ducked low and hurled himself backward straight
into the Martian. There was a loud report. A hot pain
seared into the fieshy folds beneath Austin’s left shoul-
der blade. Those hidden in the darkness at the farther
end of the room did not dare to fire for fear of injuring
their master. Now Shelby was grappling with Hekalu.
He gripped the hand that held the automatic.
Two more reports — ineffective, and then the two fell
clawing and in a heap on the floor. The shaded lamp
was upset and its illumination globes were broken.
There was darkness. Shelby heard the shuffle of run-
ning feet coming across the marble pavement of the
chamber. Help for Hekalu! He’d have to hurry. But
the Martian noble, racially much frailer than the people
of Earth, was no match for the athletic Shelby. In a
moment he was pinned, unable to move. The Earthman
tore his weapon from him and thrust its muzzle against
his recent opponent’s chest. Before he fired he saw
the Martian’s bold smile; whatever failings Hekalu
Selba had, cowardice was not among them.
On the heels of the gun’s report Shelby darted from
the room and down the short hallway which led back to
the central light-well of the Selba establishment. If he
could only somehow reach his plane! He gripped the
doorknob and shoved fiercely, but the stout metal panels
were immovable. He might have known that the outer
door would be locked ! Oh, what an unutterable ass ha
had been!
Now what? A hoarse cry of triumph caused him to
turn. Alka was racing toward him with leveled pistol.
A spray of projectiles spread toward Shelby but the
slave’s aim was bad and none of them took effect. A
split second later Alka pitched to the floor with a bullet
through his brain.
B ut there was another to be reckoned with — one
who waddled along rapidly on short powerful legs.
Its arms were long and black and more powerfully
muscled than a gorilla’s. One hand brandished a metal
knob-stick, and the other, a long-barreled pistol of
Martian design. Silvery armor set with jewels that
glittered wickedly in the dim light of the hallway
crossed the creature’s breast. Its head was bulbous, and
its face, set deep in plates of shining black chitin-like
armor, consisted only of two enormous eyes and a lipless
mouth. No nose at all! The horror Shelby had seen
on the liner!
The Earthman fired at the monster. The first bullet
clinked harmlessly on his opponent’s breast-plate. The
second thudded full force upon its skull, but apparently
the hard smooth skin of the creature was too tough to
allow projectiles hurled from a pistol to penetrate it
for it did no real damage — only infuriated the monster.
Black hard lids dropped protectingly over its eyes, and
its mouth worked convulsively. It quickened its pace
and brought its own pistol into play.
Shelby had made a hasty survey of the hall and had
noted the stairway beside the door he had tried to open.
He darted up this, ducking low behind the stone railing
to avoid his weird pursuer’s bullets. Perhaps in the
chambers above he could find a means of escape. He
was leaving a trail of blood on the marble steps, and his
wound pained him terribly. He felt sick and weak.
When he had reached the top of the stairs, the un-
known horror was already halfway up. It had returned
its pistol to its holster. Apparently it had been so
maddened by Shelby’s shots, that only tearing its quarry
to pieces could satisfy its lust for vengeance. And the
thing was gaining rapidly !
But the Earthman gritted his teeth and kept dogged-
ly on. He fought back the nauseous giddiness that was
creeping upon him. He’d have to escape. Oh God!
There was too much at stake — the world and Jan — what
was happening to Jan? True, he had killed Selba, but
certainly the Martian had minions — men who could
carry on without him. He could scarcely have built
up all his plans single-handed!
Four flights of steps Shelby and his pursuer ascended.
Was there a way of reaching the roof and the plane
in this direction? And if there were, could the Earth-
man reach it before the long arms of the thing so
close behind wrapped themselves about him? Such an
event, Shelby knew could not mean anything less than
failure, and possibly immediate death. The fiend be-
hind did not cry out or order him to halt. In fact it
made no vocal sound at all. Not even its breathing,
which should have been heavy and labored, was audible.
Only the hurried shuffle of its unshod feet. Its silent
relentlessness was nerve-wracking.
The engineer saw before him at the top of the stair
a small doorway, and beyond it a spiral runway leading
upward. The light grillwork gate stood invitingly open.
Catching the grill with one hand as he rushed through
the door, Shelby sought to slam it shut and latch it.
He almost had succeeded, and then a huge hand closed
upon the bars. One jerk, and a quick grab with the
other immense paw and the strange flight and pursuit
would be at an end.
But the jerk was delayed. Shelby fired his last round.
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
2S0
It did the monster little harm, even though the dis-
tance between the two was but four feet. Nevertheless
it caused the armored horror to leap back a step, and
the moment thus provided was sufficient.
As Shelby stumbled up the dark spiral he heard the
thing below tearing at the closed grill. He knew that
it could not delay the thing for long. He had just
reached the trapdoor at the top of the long climb, when
a muffled ripping crash echoed up dimly from far be-
neath him. The gate was down!
Feverishly he struggled with the heavy trap. Nor-
mally it would not have been difficult for him to lift the
rectangle of aluminum alloy; but wounded as he was,
forcing his numbing limbs to obey him required al-
most superhuman effort. When he had at last succeeded
in hoisting it on its hinges, he could again hear the soft
padding of hurrying feet.
The engineer found himself in a large room, one wall
of which was curved, conforming to the outer contour
of the cylindrical tower. Scattered illumination globes
gave a dim light to the place. The room was evidently
a storehouse for Hekalu’s laboratory supplies. Com-
plex mechanisms stood about, evidently waiting to be
installed. There were hundreds of metal drums pre-
sumably containing chemicals. There were bolts of
heavy fabric and stacks of ingots neatly corded. Set
in the ceiling of the chamber were several circular win-
dows through the heavy glass of which bright stars
shone. Directly above was the roof, and but a few paces
distant, the landing stage!
Escape seemed tantalizingly near, but with sinking
heart, Shelby noted that there was no easy means of
ascent to the roof. He’d have to try to smash one of
those windows. But the monster hurrying up the spiral
claimed his immediate attention.
Deeply thankful for the peculiar eccentricities of
Martian architecture, he hurriedly proceeded to pile
ingots on the closed trapdoor. Each of these ingots
weighed well over a hundred and fifty pounds. For-
tunately for the wounded Earthman, the distance he
had to carry them was only a few feet.
CHAPTER IV
Capture!
H e had transferred five to their new position be-
fore his pursuer arrived beneath the trap and
began to push upward mightily upon it. Shelby
transferred several more ingots to the pile just to make
sure that the monster could not enter. Then, fighting
off the diaphanous veil of unconsciousness that was
trying to drop over him, he looked about for something
with which to effect his escape.
A long bar of metal caught his eye. He seized it, and
with all his strength thrust upward at one of the ceil-
ing windows. But the thick glass, crisscrossed by rods
of metal, was not easily shattered.
A rattling noise attracted his attention. He glanced
back toward the trap. His pile of ingots was trembling
as if shaken by a miniature earthquake. The door was
rising upward! It settled back and rose again. An
inch crack appeared, and through it Shelby could see
two eyes and the muzzle of a pistol. He leaped out of
range just in time to avoid the bullet that whizzed
across the room and flattened itself against the wall.
He darted around toward the hinged side of the
trap, where he knew that the black horror could not fire
at him, and devoted his attention to another window.
He would have reinforced the barricade with more
ingots, but he realized that by spending his nearly ex-
hausted strength that way he would be defeating his
own purpose.
A dozen times he jabbed up viciously with the bar
before a tiny crack appeared in the round pane of
glass. The trapdoor behind him was being shaken
violently. An ingot on top of the pile was jarred from
its place and crashed to the floor. Yes, the window was
giving, A small hole appeared in it.
A pair of shiny black forearms had forced their way
from under the edge of the trapdoor. Slowly and
mightily the shoulders of the monster surged upward.
The door was rising, and this time it did not seem
that it would sink back.
Shelby had finished his task. Now, with the upper
end of the bar thrust through the opening he had made
in the window, and the lower end resting in a slight
depression in the floor, he proceeded to climb it to
safety. His head and shoulders were through the hole
when the monster at last burst its way into the room
below. But the thing was just an instant too late to
hinder him.
Sweating and bloody, Shelby drew himself to the
roof and staggered over to the landing stage. Yes, his
plane was there.
The night air, and the flush of success was refresh-
ing him. His exaltation leaped higher and higher as
his plane swept him up from the summit of the tower
of the mysterious Selba.
A wild refrain was drumming in his mind : "Hekalu
Selba is dead! I have killed him!” There was nothing
more to do but notify the Municipal Air Patrol — ^an
S. 0. S, with his siren would accomplish that. They
would raid the tower. If any of the Martian’s fellow
plotters sought to continue with the project the Earth-
man’s new weapon would take care of them.
Shelby was reaching for the siren button, and then a
terrific explosion thundered up from somewhere below,
and several hundred yards to his right. He saw the
orange flash, and then, in an instant the whole city
went dark. Another crash came and another. Shelby
saw a dark form glide through the air. From far be-
neath him he heard a troubled murmur mixed with the
din of colliding vehicles. Sirens shrieked. In the
distance to his right, a great plume of lurid flame blos-
somed in the sky.
The low purr of a machine gun sounded behind him,
and he heard the almost inaudible tick-tick of poisoned
needle-darts piercing the fuselage of his craft.
He zoomed sharply upward for a thousand feet, and
then glanced back. There was a dim shadow out there
— he was being followed. But this discovery, and the
realization that the city was attacked made but a
vague impression upon his fast-dimming mind. The
warm fluid that oozed from his shoulder, making his
clothing sodden and sticky, had all but drained his
vital energy.
Somehow he began to doubt that he hadJcilled Selba.
It had been only a dream, and the monstrous thing
that had sought his life had been a dream too. Hekalu
was pursuing him now, trying to kill him! The idea
took hold, for he could no longer distinguish fancy from
reality. It brought to him a vague fear which would
have been completely out of place with him had he not
been so near gone from loss of blood. It was like a
child’s fear of the dark.
He began to fly towards home in a wild zigzag course
like a dazed bat, but this favored him, for it enabled
him to avoid the darts from the pursuing plane. Luckily
he remembered that while under fire combat fliers do
not make use of their automatic pilots except as a last
resort, for these devices cannot direct the complex
movements necessary in dodging enemy bullets. Auto-
THE REVOLT OF THE STAR MEN
231
matically Shelby watched the guiding instruments and
followed their directions.
Several times he signaled with his siren, but no one
answered him. Thousands of sirens were hooting,
and the Air Patrol was very busy. The darkness, the
explosions and the muffled roar from the streets con-
tinued.
Two ideas now possessed Shelby’s mind and he clung
to them with the grim persistence of a wounded tiger.
One was to get home, secure his weapon and rush it
to the federal authorities. The other was to hurry to
Janice Darell.
Presently his plane bounded down awkwardly on the
landing platform of the building in which his apart-
ment was located. He stumbled out, and down the
dark stair. The elevators were not working. Somehow
he found his door and unlocked it. He groped toward
the wall safe. It was open, and the little black case
which contained the unfinished atomic ray projector
was gone. A neat round hole had been drilled in the
metal door of the safe.
The view-phone bell was ringing. Shelby stumbled
to the instrument and moved its switches. The view-
plate did not work but he heard a faint voice which he
recognized as Jan’s. "Is that you, Austin?’’ it said.
"Can’t you help me? Something is out there. It has
me cornered in my room. It has killed old Rufus. The
house police — ’’ There the connection snapped.
A wild surge of anger quickened the engineer’s weak-
ly beating heart. He tried to reach the door, and then
he felt a stinging sensation in the back of his neck.
A needle-dart charged with a sleep-producing drug had
struck him. He slumped to the floor.
A moment later a thing of metal and fabric, fitted
with drills and delicate thread-like tentacles, and
formed like a giant Sadu moth of Mars, darted out
from behind a curtain where it had been hiding. It
flew up through the air-tube which had been its means
of entrance to the room. On the roof it met a black
nightmare, and by means of signs traced in the air
with an intelligence that was paradoxically human, it
directed the monster to Shelby’s apartment below.
T he first sensation which bore itself in upon Shel
by’s consciousness when he was regaining his senses
was a terrific throbbing pain in his head. He opened
his rheum-plastered eyelids and looked about him. He
was lying in a bunk within a small dim-lit compart-
ment. Polished duralumin walls gleamed all about. At
the center of his prison was a table, and beyond, built
into the opposite wall, was another bunk. There was
a black blob of something sprawling on the mattress,
but he could not see clearly what it was. The illumina-
tion globe in the ceiling was not burning, and only a
faint glow filtered through the curtained, circular win-
dow. A muffled purring vibration told Shelby that he
was aboard a speeding space ship.
Aroused evidently by the stirring of its charge, the
thing in the opposite berth arose and strode leisurely
toward the Earthian. The metal of its harness tinkled,
and sharp points of light flashed against its ebony body,
like gems sewn into a sable curtain that is being
swayed by a vagrant draft of air.
The Earthman recognized the creature immediately
as his recent pursuer. It had pressed the light switch
now, and the illumination globe glowed softly. Then
the thing bent over Shelby, and with a gentleness that
was surprising, it rolled him over and examined his
bandaged wound briefly.
The young man conquered his revulsion sufficiently
to look up into the monster’s face. He thought that
it was odd that the sight of it did not terrify him. No,
really it was not more hideous than the visages of in-
sects he had seen through a microscope. He studied
the hard chitinous visors that blinked over the mon-
ster’s eyes — the hollow where its nose should have been ;
and he searched for some hint that there was a human
personality within that knotted carcass but found none.
The lipless mouth and the blankly staring eyes were
without any expression that he could interpret.
Two things struck Shelby as being peculiar — ^the
fact that the monster did not seem to breathe, and the
icy coldness of its hands.
The thing walked to the door, unlocked it, and left
the room. The engineer heard a grating of the key
being turned when the door had been shut.
Taking advantage of the opportunity to move about
without being observed, he jumped out of bed and
hurried to the window. It was then that he noticed that
there was a metal band about his right ankle. A long
light chain led from it to an eyelet in the wall. Truly
he was a prisoner!
A single glance through the porthole confirmed what
he had known was true — the black sky and the unwink-
ing stars of space.
There was a narrow walk beneath the window, run-
ning the full length of the flier’s hull. The railing of
woven wire cast a checkered shadow on the walk. Some-
where toward the stern a blazing sun was shining, but
Shelby could not see it.
His first thoughts concerned some means of spoiling
the plans of Selba’s band. He guessed, of course, that
they were responsible for his present position, and he
realized that it was likely that the zero hour of their
attack upon the planets was not far off. Could he
escape ? — a practical impossibility.
Nevertheless he looked longingly at the emergency
space-boat hugging close to the hull of its mother ship,
and fitted so admirably into her streamlining. If he
could get to the entrance of that boat — it was in some
other room farther toward the bow — he could give his
captors a run for their money and perhaps reach Earth.
And if he did? Shelby had great confidence in the
Atomic Ray. He removed the top from the button
where he had secreted the pink crystal. It was still
there.
But how could he get into the space-boat? Plainly
it could not be accomplished now. Perhaps soon — in
a few hours maybe, an opportunity would present it-
self. And there were other things he might do. A
moment in the engine room, and he could blow the ship
to atoms, and with it, most of the ringleaders of the
Selba crowd. Stoically Shelby realized that he too would
be destroyed, but if he could serve his world, he would
not hesitate to make the move.
Bent on getting as well acquainted with his present
environment as he could, the Earthman proceeded to
examine minutely everything that was within the range
of his senses. He tested the strength of his chain,
and began to fumble over each link, without having any
definite idea of what value the knowledge gleaned from
such a procedure would be to him.
He had reached'about the tenth link when he heard
a sound above the purr of rocket motors — voices. There
were two of them. One was a man’s; the other was
soft and feminine. Shelby knew it at once — Janice
Darell’s! So she too was aboard the space flier! He
realized it with a pang of apprehension. In vain the
Earthman tried to catch the words they were saying,
but beyond detecting the chilly tone in the girl’s voice,
he could get no idea of what they were talking about.
Apparently they were in the room next to his.
232
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
He heard footsteps in the hall outside, and returned
quickly to his bunk. Three people entered the room.
The first was the black monster. Shelby gave a gasp
when he saw who followed it — ^Jan. She looked tired
and worn but in her face there was no hint of fear.
She smiled wanly at Shelby. There was another be-
hind her. It was Hekalu Selba — the man the Earthian
thought he had killed! For once Shelby was really
dumbfounded. He uttered the Martian’s name with-
out thinking.
The noble grinned in Satanic amusement. “It is I,
none other, my friend,” he said. “Aren’t you glad
to see me? You look as though you were being visited
by a ghost.”
The Martian chuckled. “But thanks to a breast
armor I still belong to this plane of existence. I admit
though that you gave me a great scare when you
nearly, but not quite, escaped. My four bombing fliers
supplied an adequate diversion for the Municipal Pa-
trol, didn’t they? And my Sadu moth, radio controlled
automaton — it functioned perfectly!”
S HELBY rose from the bunk and sauntered toward
his captor. Hekalu made no move to stop him.
“Now that you have Miss Darell and me nicely trapped,
what do you intend to do?” Shelby inquired coldly.
The Martian laughed. “You have a very inquisitive
nature, Mr. Shelby,” he said. “What do you expect
me to do? Continue with my plans which you so al-
most successfully spoiled, my friend.” Here Hekki’s
voice became suddenly excited and husky; his lips
curled and his eyes took on the fanatical look of a
megalomaniac who sees within his grasp his dream of
power.
“Very soon,” he lisped, “we strike. Mars first, then
your planet. I shall be great — greater than all the
combined rulers of the millenniums gone by, and Janice
here, will share my greatness.” The slender arm of
Selba stole around the waist of the girl beside him.
She did not try to draw away. “That last little idea
maddens you, doesn’t it, Mr. Shelby?” he added with a
sneer.
Shelby felt a flush of heat in his cheeks. What hap-
pened to Jan that she should permit the noble to be so
familiar with her ? Had she been dazzled by his wealth
and his promises of what stupendous things the future
would bring? For a fraction of a second something
seemed to let go in the Earthman’s mind, and then he
saw the fleeting look in the girl’s eyes. He checked the
impulse that had urged him to send a fist crashing
into the face of the smirking noble. Certainly such an
act of violence could accomplish no good.
Shelby looked at the black monster. It was standing
beside the table, and leaned forward, so that its
knuckles rested ape-like upon the floor. It was gazing
narrowly at the Martian, and its mouth opened and
closed nervously. There was a faint something in its
almost blank face which suggested to the Earthman
that the bond of friendship between the Prince of Selba
and this weird devil of the void was none too strong.
Hekalu withdrew his arm from about the girl. He
nodded toward the bejeweled nightmare. “I had al-
most forgotten my lieutenant here, Mr. Shelby,” he
said. “He is the ruler of the empire from which I am
recruiting my forces — my chief ally. Since his people
do not employ a language of sounds, he has no vocal
name; but for the sake of convenience I have christened
him Alkebar, which means ‘The Unknown.’ He was
my companion on my recent trip to Earth, for he
wanted very much to see what a beautiful place is your
world.” There was a sinister hint in these last words.
Hekki made a few quick signs to Alkebar with his
fingers, and then turned to the girl. “I must ask you
two to leave us now, Jan,” he said. “Mr. Shelby and
I have an important matter to discuss.”
Alkebar grasped Janice’s arm with a homy paw,
and hurried her through the door. But nevertheless
Shelby caught a fleeting glimpse of her face as her
lips formed, but did not utter, the word — “Wait.”
Hekki did not see.
The Earthman turned upon the Martian. “I am go-
ing to usurp your assumed right to start this little
private conversation, Akar Hekalu,” he told him. “There
is only one thing I have to say. You are a noble, the
son of a long line of nobles who righted wrongs and
avenged insults on the field of honor. You have wronged
me, no you have outraged me. Therefore I challenge
you to combat. Choose your weapons. No place will
suit me better than this room; no time better than
now.” But if Austin had expected to nettle Hekalu
into a mood for fighting, he was disappointed.
The Martian was smiling mockingly, “Life is sweet,”
he said, “sweeter to me than it has ever been before.
I do not wish to die — not even by your hands. And
you — you have certain knowledge and information
which is valuable to me. You must live. I was going
to talk to you about what you know. That weapon of
yours — ^we are working on a projector. But something
is evidently missing — a tiny element.”
“What you have learned about the Atomic Ray,”
Shelby cut in, “you learned through your own efforts.
If you can steal the remainder of the necessary in-
formation from my brain, you are welcome. Otherwise,
I urgently invite you to go to the devil.”
Hekki’s face assumed a look of infinite though make-
believe sadness. It was a trick such as a designing
woman might use to attract some desirable male.
“I am sorry to hear you talk so, Mr. Shelby,” he
said. “But as you suggest, I believe that there are
ways of stealing knowledge even from your mind. For
instance, in an old vault beneath my palace at Taboor,
I once found a sealed vat containing a certain fluid.
The Ancient Ones were wise, for when they desired
any man to talk, they thrust his arms or his legs, or
perchance his whole body into the fluid. Very slowly,
and with some discomfort, it ate away the tissue of his
nerves. I must leave you now, my friend. Think well,
and may the gods that rule the universe guide you on
the right course.”
He opened the door. Shelby caught a glimpse of a
long hall, and at the far end, the bewildering maze of
control-room equipment. The panel closed.
CHAPTER V
The Race Through Space
I MMEDIATELY the Earthman set himself to the
task of examining everything in his prison. But
as he had expected, there was little or nothing to
discover. The walls which his tether permitted him to
reach were all perfectly smooth and solid. He realized
with a sheepish grin that it had been foolish of him to
even dare to hope that they would be otherwise. The
chain fastened to the fetter was quite adequate to hold
him. The window, even if it might have been used as
an avenue of escape, was securely fastened with bolts,
so that it would have taken a man equipped with a
heavy set of wrenches, an hour to remove it. To shat-
ter the flexible pane was next to an impossibility. The
table was firmly welded to the floor. Beyond the table,
Shelby could not go, for the chain prevented him. But
he was quite sure that there was nothing movable in
THE REVOLT OF THE STAR MEN
233
the entire room massive enough to be used as a tool or
weapon.
He slumped down on his bunk, and let one hand rest
on a small power-pipe which ran along the wall and
up to the illumination globe above. For a minute de-
jection almost got a firm grip on him. But he fought it
off. This was no time to give up. Why, the struggle
hadn’t even started yet!
Shelby felt a faint vibration of the power-pipe under
his hand. For a considerable time the impressions
had been coming to him, but they had scarcely pene-
trated into his consciousness. They seemed no more
significant than the hundred and one little noises and
disturbances that go with the running of any space
ship. Presently however, the regular sequence of the
pulsations attracted his attention. Something made
him think of the almost obsolete Morse code. Then
the realization came to him. Someone in another room
on he ship was tapping on the power-pipe — signaling
— signaling him! He spelled the word out — A-u-s-t-i-n,
repeated over and over again.
His first thought was of Jan. It must be she who
was calling him for there was no one else.
Quickly, with his heavy signet ring, he tapped out
an answer: “It is I, Jan, A, S. shoot — ’’
With tensed muscles, and with fingers firmly clutch-
ing the power-pipe that he might not miss a single
signal, Shelby crouched, receiving the message. Some-
how there was an urgency, an insistence, an appeal
about those hurried pulsations that no human voice
could have conveyed. It was fantastically like com-
municating with one who is buried alive.
“We must escape not later than five hours from
now," the tapping spelled. “You have been unconscious
for a long time — drugged. In five hours we land on
Mars. Then escape will be impossible.
"Hekki has told me much, and I have seen much.
The horrors that are Selba’s henchmen — three times
some of them came to the ship, once in a band of over
a hundred. Hekki is worried. He has not troubled
me yet. Too busy I suppose. I have tried to make
believe that I agree to his plans. I thought I could
control him that way. But he has been taking the
Elar drug.
"We must escape, Austin. We must! Can’t you
think of a way? I will help! If they get you to the
concentration base in the Taraal they will torture you.
And we must remember our homeland!’’
The hurrying vibrations ceased, and then, almost
before he knew what he was doing, Shelby was tapping
out an answer promising the impossible.
“Never fear, dearest,’’ he signaled. “Just let me
think for a few minutes.” A moment later this phrase
almost made him laugh. The sap hero of a comedy
which had recently been broadcast over the radio-view
had said almost these exact words. Think? Of what?
Escape within five hours? How? But Jan’s appeal
sent in such an odd way had an almost magical effect
on him, and made his brain work harder almost than
ever before. And then the ghost of an idea came.
There was a chance that it would work. He signaled
to Jan, and then for half an hour, they put their heads
together — planning.
Somewhat nervous, Shelby walked to the door and
hammered loudly upon it. A thin-faced slave whose
hide was burned by desert suns to the color of ma-
hogany, appeared almost immediately.
Shelby answered his inquiring look briefly: “I would
speak to your master,” he said in Pagari — “right
away.” The slave nodded and reclosed the door.
In excited impatience the Earthman waited. Now
and then he tapped short messages of encouragement
to Jan. Would Hekalu never come? The strain of
suspense was not exactly pleasant. Finally, unable to
contain himself any longer, he rose from the bunk
where he had been reclining in readiness for the first
move of the coup he was planning, and began to pace
the floor.
He chanced to glance out of the window. On the
railed walk beyond, a man clad in space armor was
bending over a small portable case which was sup-
ported on a tripod. Shelby surmised correctly that
this man was Hekalu Selba,
Beside him, paying close attention to whatever the
Martian was doing, stood the black Alkebar. The
Earthman frowned in puzzlement, almost in awe. For
Hekki’s weird companion wore nothing that would be
of the least help in protecting him from interplanetary
cold and lack of air pressure. Not even an oxygen
helmet! And yet, as the monster examined interest-
edly, every dial and switch that Hekalu touched, he
showed not the slightest hint of discomfort. The air-
less emptiness of space seemed home to him. How
could such things be? A strange thrill tingled and
vibrated along Shelby’s spine when he realized how
alien was Alkebar. There was no kinship between him
and the creatures of either Earth or Mars.
Presently Hekki looked up, and as though moved by
some intuitive realization that he was being watched,
turned awkwardly in his cumbersome attire, and
glanced along the row of portholes in the side of the
vessel. He saw the Earthman and smiled at him.
Shelby felt that it was the kind of smile which a tol-
erant father might show to his youngest son. Hekalu
waved his hand, and his lips, behind the glazed front
of the helmet, formed several words which Shelby could
not interpret. Then the Martian returned his atten-
tion to his apparatus.
W HEN Selba entered his prisoner’s room some
moments later, he found him lounging on the
bunk.
The Martian looked enquiringly at Shelby. “You
have reached some conclusion, my friend?” he asked.
Without changing his position on the bunk the young
man nodded. There was an expression of dejection and
sullen resignation on his face which he wm trying
hard, above the intense excitement which possessed
him, to make realistic. Still acting the part he spoke:
"Yes, Akar Hekalu,” he said between teeth that were
apparently gritted -with rage, “I have decided to reveal
to you the secret of the Atomic Ray.”
A triumphant gleam came into the Martian’s eyes.
“Ah, my friend,” he said, “you at last see the light.
I knew that you would. But what has been the cause
for this sudden change in attitude? The torture
chamber, perhaps?” There was an undercurrent of
suspicion in Hekalu’s voice.
Shelby turned his head sullenly away, feigning
shame. He said nothing. A minute passed during
which time Hekalu stared at his captive, a sardonic
smirk of contempt curling his thin coral lips.
Finally he said, “I will have Koo Faya bring you
writing materials, and you will describe in writing
every detail of the manufacture of the missing
element.”
“No,” replied Shelby, turning his face toward the
Martian, “I haven’t the ability to do that. It will be
necessary for you to take me to the laboratory of the
ship where I can demonstrate the process to you. It
is much too delicate and complicated.”
The noble’s eyes wavered slightly. “Once,” he said.
234 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
“you tried to trick me, but I warn you that I am on
guard now so do not attempt it again.”
He signed to Alkebar who had been standing silently
beside the open door. The giant drew a key from a
pouch at his side, and kneeling, unlocked the fetter
fastened about Shelby’s ankle. It rattled to the floor.
And at the same time the Earthian, leaning back on
the bunk with arms stretching over his head, tapped
sharply three times with his signet ring on the power-
pipe. It seemed to be only an unconscious gesture —
nervousness perhaps.
Immediately there was a terrific crash from down
.the passage way, followed by an agonized scream. An-
other crash. More screams.
Hekalu started, and then making a hurried gesture
to Alkebar which indicated that he was to guard the
inventor of the Atomic Ray, he drew his automatic
and dashed down the corridor to investigate the dis-
turbance. The Earthman however, was in no mood
to be guarded. No longer shackled, he leaped to his
feet and over to the center of the room. The great
voiceless beast from the stars stood before the door-
way with his long arms outstretched. He was not
trying to capture the Earthman — only seeking to block
his path.
But Shelby had no time to waste. Gathering him-
self together, he hurtled straight for the ankles of his
opponent. The fact that the artificial gravity of the
ship was of the same strength as that of Mars — only
a trifle more than one-third that of Earth — added to
the effectiveness of his plunge. The mighty-muscled
Alkebar, puzzled by the unheard-of tactics of his agile
though vastly weaker foe, suddenly found himself in a
sprawling heap on the floor. Shelby leaped over him
through the door, slammed it, and raced precipitately
down the corridor.
In the meantime Hekalu Selba had reached Janice
Bareli’s room, but when he had unlocked it and had
thrust his head inside to see what the matter was, a
heavy urn, deftly aimed, had crashed full into his face.
Shelby saw him sprawling in the passage badly dazed,
and a split second later Jan dashed from her cabin.
She looked around, apd when she saw Shelby coming
swiftly toward her she flashe.d him a quick smile of
triumph.
But Alkebar had wrenched the portal of the Earth-
man’s recent prison open, and was in hot pursuit. He
was tugging frantically at the pistol in his belt.
"Run, Jan, quick! — To the control room!” Austin
shouted.
He caught up Hekki’s automatic which had dropped
from the Martian’s grasp when he had fallen, and
wheeling, fired at the black colossus. The bullet struck
Alkebar’s right hand with which he was raising his
pistol. The tough natural armor which covered the
monster from head to foot prevented it from doing any
serious damage, but it must have stung badly, for his
weapon clattered to the floor. While he was stooping
to recover it, Shelby hurried forward to catch up with
Jan. It was but a few yards to the control room. If
they could get there, overcome whoever was in charge
and barricade themselves in, they could master the
ship !
Their luck had been good, but it was not destined
to be as good as that. They caught but a brief glimpse
of the bewildering array of switches, dials and levers,
that constituted the brain-center of the craft. Stand-
ing on guard before his instrument panels was the ma-
hogany-colored slave Koo Faya. He was half crouch-
ing, at bay. There was a murderous light in his eyes,
and he held leveled in his hands a light machine gun.
Shelby’s automatic was leveled too, and he pressed
his trigger an instant before the Martian. Four bul-
lets whizzed into the control room, splattering close
about the thin mummy-like body of Koo Faya. A
glass globe that glowed redly on the top of a compli-
cated mechanism, was struck and burst with a popping
sound. A rose-colored vapor floated ceiling-ward.
S imultaneously Koo Faya’s weapon began to
whir. Then, even as Shelby jerked Jan back out
of danger, the wild shriek of an alarm siren mingled
with the discordant clashing jangle of ungoverned
machinery running amuck, rang through the ship, and
the huge metal cigar pitched and careened like a
frightened thing.
Alkebar, having recovered his pistol, was staggering
down the passage shooting rapidly. But owing to the
crazy motion of the space flier his missiles were
momentarily not taking effect.
Austin and Jan knew that Koo Faya was leaping
to a position where he could shoot his i>oisoned darts
at them again. What now? Cornered? No! Janice
Bareli wrenched open a door in the side of the passage
and shoved Shelby into the tiny room beyond.
In the opposite wall of the closet was a round dark
opening. “The emergency flier,” Jan shouted. “Into
it!”
As quickly as they could they climbed through into
the submarine-like interior beyond. Fighting to keep
themselves erect, they slammed the heavy duralumin
portal to and fastened it. Alkebar was already grop-
ing on the opposite side. But he was too late.
Shelby leaped to the control panel and cut the elec-
tric current from the magnets that held the emergency
flier anchored to its mother ship. It floated, free from
the careening hulk. Its rocket motors roared into life.
The occupants of the tiny craft looked back at the
Selba. It had ceased its mad motions now, and was
hanging quietly in space. Evidently Koo Faya had
succeeded in righting matters to some slight extent at
least. Would he be able to patch things up entirely?
The red globe could be replaced in half an hour. It
would be that length of time at least before the Selba
could engage in pursuit.
But the arm of a space ship, equipped with weapons
commonly used in the void, is long. Hence Austin
Shelby considered it his first duty to put as much
distance between his craft and Hekalu’s ship as
possible.
Still four million miles away. Mars glowed — a tiny
red disc; and he headed toward her giving the flier
full freedom to do its best. The fiery vapors fairly
tore from the rocket nozzles.
With one hand in readiness on the control lever,
which resembled in appearance and operation the joy-
stick of an airplane, and his feet on the bar used for
steering in a lateral plane, he kept his eyes fixed on the
receding bulk behind. Jan had handed him one of the
two pairs of binoculars which she had just found in
the supply compartment.
Austin knew what to expect from the direction of
the Selba, and it came well within schedule. A flash
of green fire spurted from the foredeck of the ship. It
showed up with startling vividness against the jeweled
sable of the void.
Abruptly Shelby drew the control lever back. In
response to his movement the rocket nozzles, now de-
flected from alignment with the central axis of the
craft, sent it into a steep climb. The terrific angular
acceleration seemed in bent on forcing the two fugi-
tives straight through the metal floor. It drew the
THE REVOLT OF THE STAR MEN
236
blood from their faces and made them grow pale and
giddy. But they escaped being struck by the tor-
pedo.
It exploded a hundred yards beneath the flier’s keel.
Fragments of it banged against the hull. In rapid
succession other flashes darted from the Selba, which
had dwindled to a silvery speck far to the rear. But
still those missiles, directed by incredibly delicate
sighting mechanisms, and hurled at almost the speed
of light, continued to score remarkably close to their
target.
If it had not been such an elusive target they most
certainly would have blasted it to fragments. But
Shelby, skilled as were most of the men of his time,
in the handling of small space craft, was able to endow
his flier with much of the agility of an alarmed dragon
fly. Darting, weaving, zigzagging, yet always keeping
ite general course fixed toward Mars, it careened away.
Always it was ringed by an aura of green flashes.
However, good fortune is seldom perfect. The tem-
pered duralumin plates of the flier managed to with-
stand the force of all of the torpedo fragments which
showered them — ^with one exception. One dart from
Hekalu’s ship exploded barely fifty feet to the right
of the fugitive craft, and a flying chunk of steel sent
it pitching and tumbling through the ether.
When the two bruised occupants had regained their
equilibrium they heard a faint hissing above the roar
of rockets. They knew that there was but slight
chance that the Selba could do them any further harm,
for though the torpedoes continued to come, the dis-
tance between the two vessels was now so great that
a damaging shot was almost an impossibility. Never-
theless, the present situation was serious enough. A
leakl
Fixing the nose of the flier toward the Bed Planet,
and locking the controls, Shelby left the pilot’s seat to
determine the extent of the damage, while Jan searched
the supply compartment for something with which to
repair it. There was a deep dent in one of the ceiling
plates and a thin wriggly crack through the center
of it — not an easy job to patch that out in space under
the best of circumstances.
The young man whistled when he saw how near they
had come to a hideous death. Several times he had
seen the bodies of men who had been suddenly exposed
to the pressureless airless cold of the outer void — hid-
eous bloated things through whose skin the livid blood
had forced its way.
"Any luck, Jan,” he asked, looking back at his com-
panion, “Did you find some cement?”
She shook her head.
CHAPTER VI
The Space Men Attack
F irst stepping to the oxygen supply valve and
opening it a trifle wider, Shelby hastened to assist
the girl in her quest. Their ears were ringing.
The air pressure within the hull was dropping rapidly.
Diligently they ransacked every nook and corner, but
found nothing more valuable than a can of thick grease.
Shelby smeared some of it over the crevice; it helped
but did not by any means check the flow of the escap-
ing air entirely.
“It’s a race with time now, Jan,” he said quietly.
She looked at him. Her face was a trifle pale, but
her lips and eyes were smiling. “Are we on our way
to Mars, Captain?” she enquired.
He nodded, “We are, Admiral. The fuel tanks are
full and if our air lasts we’ll get there.”
“And when we do,” she put in, “the best of luck to
Hekki and his friends!”
A vision swept through Shelby’s mind — batteries of
fantastic machines whose maws spewed flames of faint
lavender fire — blinding flashes of light and world-
rocking explosions: a hideous thing to dream of —
hideous yet glorious, for the civilizations and freedom
of two worlds depended upon it. To the Red Planet
— they must make it!
Janice Darell had placed her hand lightly on Shelby’s
arm. Her expression was serious, almost hard. “Aus-
tin,” she said, “tell me truthfully, can we really reach
Mars? It is likely that we shall get there before we
go out?”
“Certainly, darling,” he replied, putting as much
assurance into the words and expression as was pos-
sible. “Why do you ask?”
There was something that suggested doubt, perhaps
even displeasure in her answer: “We have a duty to
perform, Austin — a duty infinitely bigger than our
own petty existences. You have not seen what I have
seen — small scouting patrols that came to the Selba
riding strange round things that must have been ma-
chines of some kind. One look at those henchmen of
Alkebar, their great black bodies, their quick nervous
movements — like eager panthers, their wicked-looking
weapons which they carried with such an air of easy
assurance, and you would have known what they hoped
to do. Most of these devils are within the orbit of
Mars for the first time. Certainly Hekki has told you
something about them?”
Shelby nooded. “Very little; but I have noticed a
few of Alkebar’s remarkable peculiarities,” he said.
“Well,” she continued, “if we can’t get to Taboor,
there is one thing we can do — destroy the Selba, and
with it Hekki and Alkebar.”
“Destroy the Selba!" Shelby exploded, "with what?
Those toy machine guns on the nose of this bus? The
bullets wouldn’t even make noticeable scratches in the
hide of that tough old girl.”
“Not with the machine guns,” Jan said slowly, “with
this flier 1 A little luck and it would work.”
The idea flashed through Shelby’s brain. Ram the
Selba at high speed! Absolutely certain self-murder!
A wave of tremendous admiration for the girl came
over him. She had something more in her favor than
mere beauty and intelligence.
“Your idea is a pretty good one, Jan,” he told her,
“But rest assured that unless you can overpower me, it
will never be put into execution. However, I’ll tell you
the truth: we have about a fifty-fifty chance of reach-
ing the Red Planet alive.”
And so they tore on their way across the void while
they watched the dial on the oxygen tank. They were
racing with a tiny needle that crept ever nearer to the
zero point that was its goal.
By allowing the pressure within the flier to drop to
the lowest point that they could endure, they managed
to conserve considerable oxygen, for then the rate of
escape from the crevice the torpedo fragment had made
was naturally not so rapid.
Frequently they examined the sky behind them, ex-
pecting momentarily to discover the tiny speck of
flitting silver that would be the Selba. But if the ship
was pursuing them it had not yet come close enough
to be seen.
However, there was another, and perhaps greater
menace which kept their eyes turning this way and
that, searching for signs of danger. Clusters of dully-
glowing specks in any quarter of the heavens would
be the first indications of its presence. They would
236 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
grow larger, come hurtling on like racing meteors in
the sun’s glow. Only there would be an odd wobbly
motion about their darting flight. Shelby tested the
trips of the two machine guns. Spurts of green flame
plumed out of the muzzles.
He had set the radio transmitter in operation, and
was sending occasional signals for assistance. But he
knew that this was practically a useless move. Hekalu
had taken them far off the beaten track, and they were
still half- a million miles from the Terrestro-Martian
traffic lane. The range of the transmitter of this craft
was only ten thousand miles. Even if they had been
much nearer the chances of their signals being picked
up were slight.
The Martian disc was growing larger. It had be-
come an ochre sphere delicately ringed and mottled
with greens and browns like a cloudy opal. The flier
was fairly eating up the distance.
Shelby had just said: “I believe we’re going to make
it, Jan,” and then the signs which they had hoped
would not appear came. Ahead of them and a little
to their right, a vague cluster of specks glimmered into
view. It wavered like a wisp of luminous smoke buf-
feted by a light breeze. This was the one thing that
distinguished it from a meteor cluster.
R apidly the individual points of light grew, be-
. coming tiny stars that glowed by the reflected
light of the sun. Within five minutes there was no
longer any chance of mistaking their identity, for their
flat disc-like shapes and the half-human forms of the
things that rode them were already visible through the
binoculars. They were approaching at terrific velocity.
Both Jan and Austin knew them to be subjects of Alke-
bar. There was no mistaking their motive. Doubtless
orders had been flashed to them from the disabled
Selba.
Kealizing that these fleet space riders cCuld easily
catch up with his flier if they so chose, Shelby made no
attempt to elude them. Instead he clung doggedly to
the straight course toward Mars.
The twin machine guns, responding obediently to
their directing mechanism, swung on their swivel
toward the hurtling foes. Shelby peered into the eye-
piece of the “sighter,” a complicated arrangement of
mirrors and lenses which enabled the pilot to always
look directly through the ring-sights regardless of what
direction the gun barrels were pointing. He pressed
the trips, and soundlessly, out in the vacuum of space,
the guns went into action. Flickering green flames of
detonating radio-active explosive darted from their
muzzles.
Almost immediately there were answering flashes
among the approaching shapes, for the high-calibre
bullets were also loaded with explosive. One projectile
took effect — another! Emerald flares of light, and
nothing remained of two bold space men and their
queer disc-like vehicles but torn fragments of flesh
and metal.
The Space Men were very close now. Jan and Shelby
could see the light flashing on their jeweled harnesses
and on the weapons which they flourished defiantly.
There must have been almost five hundred in the party.
Somehow their wild charge was vaguely reminiscent
of a band of fierce Bedouin marauders, racing madly
across the desert, bent on pillage. Only it was the
Arabs who suffered by this comparison, for the desert
of these mysterious Space Men was the whole of inter-
stellar emptiness; and their forms and those of the
things they rode, were the forms of the forces of Iblees
himself.
Apparently these henchmen of Alkebar had some
object in view other than the mere destruction of the
flier, for they made no move to use their weapons.
They were pulling upon levers on their vehicles, check-
ing their headlong flight.
Now they were coursing with the little craft, swarm-
ing about it, edging nearer, at the same time taking
care to keep out of range of Shelby’s guns.
There was a scraping against the hull and a light
jolt as a talon secured a hold on an eyelet ring. A black
bulk dropped down on the nose of the craft, A pair
of hands gripped the barrels of the machine guns, and
with an easy tug, tore them from their mountings.
There were shifting scratching sounds coming through
the flier’s light shell — heavy bodies moving about, and
then a sudden ripping vibration. The control lever
felt loose in Shelby’s hand. He could no longer guide
the vessel. And there was nothing either he or Jan
could do except wait. The rocket motors still purred
evenly.
“I guess they’ve got us this time, Jan,” the young
man said to his companion. “I wonder what they are
going to do with us?” He spoke as casually as though
this latest unfavorable turn of fortune was no more
serious than the loss of a game of chess.
Janice Darell was equally cool. “Next time we
win,” she laughed. It is odd how human beings so
often react to strange and terrifying situations. “I’m
always ready, you see. Here I was crouching behind
you throughout the fight with this perfectly useless
pistol in my hand, hoping foolishly that I might be able
to use it. That’s loyalty.”
They fell to studying the two monsters which rested
on the nose of the craft in front of the pilot’s observa-
tion window, where the guns had been. The Space
Man was crouching out there trying to peer in at
them. He was very much like Alkebar — only not so
large, and his equipment and adornment did not boast
so many jewels.
Shelby felt a peculiar sense of the unreality of the
creature. He looked into its face and saw its eyes.
Beside the left orb was a mottled area that must have
been a scar. It seemed as concrete as anything he had
ever seen, and yet for the second time, he told himself
that such a creature wasn’t possible!
Time honored tradition had said: “Life can exist
only where there is oxygen, water and warmth.” And
all three of the requisites were lacking in the void.
Shelby realized that tradition might be wrong, but the
question still remained: How did these creatures of
space live? Whence came the energy that kept their
bodies functioning? If not from the combustion of
food with oxygen, then where? If there were no mois-
ture in their bodies, and there certainly couldn’t be,
for it would have been frozen in an instant and diffused
through sublimation, how could vital fluids flow
through their veins? He put these questions to Jan,
but she shook her head.
“Hekki informed me that these people inhabited a
region somewhere beyond Mars, but he did not tell how
it was that they could live in space,” she said. -“It
might be that they have had a development similar
to terrestrial insects with the skeleton of armor en-
closing their flesh.”
The vehicles of the Space Men were even greater
puzzles. How did they fly out here where the rocket
was the only human invention that could move? Many
of the vehicles were visible now through the flier’s
windows. They were disc shaped platforms of a
strange lusterless metal. In the center of the top was
an opening in which the Space Men sat. Projecting
THE REVOLT OF THE STAR MEN
237
from the discs were a series of levers, permitting evi-
dently simple control. But no hint of their principle
of operation was given. They emitted no rocket jets;
no beams projected from them.
Austin realized that there were many mysteries of
the universe with which he was not acquainted; this
was certainly one.
T he sound of bodies moving about on the outer shell
of the flier was still audible. Presently there was
a sharp explosion somewhere toward the stern. The
rockets immediately fell silent. The fugitives saw that
some of the Space Men were now busying themselves
with long metal cables. Deftly and expertly they were
looping them through the eyelet rings set at frequent
intervals along the sides of the flier.
The other ends of the cables they fastened firmly to
similar rings on their vehicles. They finished the job
with all the eflSciency of trained military engineers.
Then, with the small interplanetary vessel in tow, the
Space Men began to move off toward Mars, rapidly gain-
ing momentum until their speed must have considera-
bly exceeded that which most space craft could equal.
They deflected their course somewhat from the direct
pdth to the Red Planet, probably to avoid a meeting
with any wandering ship.
Throughout the fantastic voyage Shelby and Janice
Darell found little to do but stare dumbfounded at
their weird captors and to watch the rapidly dropping
needle of their oxygen supply-gauge. But as it proved,
there was little danger of suffocation, for the Space
Men were making good time.
And so, after two hours of flying they came to Mars
— not to Taboor which the fugitives had previously
hoped to reach, but to a deep valley in the desert of the
Taraal. The strange caravan circled around to the
night side of the planet, and then, slowly and carefully,
but with a hint that they understood their work well,
they proceeded to lower the disabled craft through the
atmosphere to the ground below.
The door of the flier was tom open like a paper thing,
and a black giant fully as huge and burly as Alkebar him-
self hustled the adventurers roughly out into the open.
The pock-marked face of Loo, the Martian name for
their nearer moon, was in the sky, and by its light they
could see hundreds of Space Men crowding about them.
Plainly this Martian colony was fairly well peopled, for
there were many more than the five hundred who cap-
tured them. The attitude of the onlookers was one of
casual curiosity. For the moment at least they were
not showing the more brutal side of their characters.
The fugitives were given but a moment to look about,
while their jailer apparently carried on a silent conver-
sation with one of his lieutenants.
They saw the sandy floor of the huge rectangular en-
closure dotted with strange mounds which must have
been some kind of shelter, the encircling walls crowned
by square towers at regular intervals. Those walls
were amber-colored in the moonlight, and cast dense
shadows that shifted visibly as Loo raced in its mete-
oric course toward the east. Here and there before the
mounds huge vague shapes squatted. At the center of
the enclosure a tall spire of silvery girders rose, sup-
porting at its summit a cone of a dull black substance.
It looked like the creation of either Earthmen or Mar-
tians.
Beyond the wall the rounded summits of desert hills,
over which in ages past, a restless ocean had poured
and flowed, were visible. In spite of their position the
two young Earthlans could not help but marvel at the
silent grandeur of this exotic scenery. A light though
chilly desert wind blew refreshingly -gainst their faces.
The black giant had kept a hand on each of his
prisoners during his brief conference, and now, none
too gently, he guided them to the entrance of one of the
mound dwellings. The Space Man ushered his charges
into a corridor, and then, fumbling with a curious lock
he opened a heavy door and shoved them into the dim-
lit room beyond. With a rattling clink the great stone
panel closed behind them.
A lump of self-luminous rock set in the stone ceiling
gave a faint illumination to the bare Interior. There
was no furniture — only the sand-covered floor and
rough rocky walls. On the floor a Space Man, larger
and more magnificently-muscled by far than any they
had yet seen, sprawled. He was either unconscious or
dead; they could not tell which. There were hideous
welts and gashes and half-healed scars all over his body.
The gashes were caked with a viscid purplish substance.
With the coming of the sudden Martian dawn which
flashed through a narrow embrasure high in the wall,
the jailer returned. His first act was to thrust the
needle of what appeared to be a form of hypodermic
syringe into the arm of the unconscious Space Man.
Then he led his Earthian captives out into the open.
Neither Jan nor Austin were surprised when they
saw the Selha squatting near the base of the spire.
Several Space Men, directed by the slave Koo Faya,
moved about the ship, working the fueling pump.
Walking down the gangplank which led up to the en-
trance of the vessel was Alkebar, and beside him, Hek-
alu himself. The latter sauntered leisurely toward his
captives, and the Chieftain moved off toward a group
of Space Men standing some distance away.
CHAPTER VII
Ankova’s Story
T he Martian made a brief nervous sign to the
jailer. “Gently, Rega,” he said. The Space Man
relaxed his painful grip on his prisoners. The
noble surveyed them smiling. Defiantly, half contemptu-
ously, Shelby was smiling back.
Finally, with a mocking casual air, Hekki spoke:
“There is a very ancient saying on your planet,” he
said, “to the effect that bad pennies always return.”
The corners of his mouth twitched with sardonic
amusement. His manner grew more serious, yet still
there was an undercurrent of sarcasm: “Miss Darell
and Mr. Shelby, I want to compliment you on your re-
markable cleverness and daring. Words cannot express
my admiration for you. You have every right to be
proud of yourselves.”
Shelby nodded. “We are,” he told him drily. “Is
there anything more on your mind?” He turned away
with an expression of bored contemptuous indifference.
“I have little to say except that we are about to con-
tinue our recently interrupted journey tonight, Mr.
Shelby,” said the Martian.
He saw the Earthman and the girl casting interested
glances at the disc vehicles that surrounded them every-
where.
"You like my people?” Hekki inquired. “You find
them entertaining? Perhaps you have discovered things
in their habits which you cannot understand. Shall I
give you explanations ?” For the moment at least there
was a serious earnest ring in Hekalu’s voice.
“Flag of truce, Jan. This should be interesting,”
Shelby said. His eyes were full of eagerness as he
turned back toward the Martian. “How do they live out
there?” he cried. “There isn’t any air or water, and
it’s almost as cold as it can get anywhere. Why, the
238
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
thing is utterly impossible according to the laws of
common sense!”
Immediately all of Hekalu’s lazy air of careless mock-
ery was gone, and the dynamic aura of the tireless ex-
perimenter and inventor that had hidden beneath it
showed out clear. His voice was husky with suppressed
excitement when he spoke;
"I too was dumbfounded when, some five Earth years
ago, I first ran across the Space Men out there. (He
waved his hand toward the west away from the sun.)
But after I had studied them for a time, I knew that
there was really nothing very remarkable or impossible
about the nature of their living. It is actually quite
similar to our own.
“Why do we need air? Simply because by the chemi-
cal combination of oxygen with food we obtain the
energy necessary to make our brains to think, our limbs
to move, and our hearts to beat. Energy is life. But
doesn’t it occur to you that this vital thing might be
obtained in some other manner? The Space Men do.
Their principal food Is the radio-active element, atomic
number 109, as yet undiscovered on the planets. It is
a purplish liquid that is fairly abundant on a number of
the planetoids. Daily, like radium, it gives off vast
quantities of energy; and when in the systems of the
Space Men it supplies them with power more efficiently
than food and oxygen ever could do for us.
“Why can’t we survive the intense cold of space? The
answer is a simple one. The protoplasm of all forms
of living things that we know of, including the Space
Men themselves, is a colloidal jelly the principal portion
of which is, and must be, a liquid. Cells must be bathed
and nourished, and impurities washed away. Without
liquids there seems to be no likelihood that there would
be any life, unless in some manner a gas could perform
this fluid function. Solids would remain forever dead
and motionless.
“If anything happens to chill even slightly the proto-
plasm of any of the higher forms of planetary life, the
body fluid becomes sluggish and death may result. No
mammals or birds that we know of can live actively
with their body temperatures at all approaching the
freezing point of water. However, in the polar seas of
both planets there are creatures whose systems func-
tion quite normally with their blood temperatures just
above this point. But beyond this deadline, zero de-
grees Centigrade, or a little lower or higher, depending
on the actual congealing point of the water in their
bodies, even they cannot go, for there, the cold limit
of Terrestro-Martian life has been reached.
“Why couldn’t these polar fish survive the cold of
space ? Simply because the protoplasm of their tissues,
based on water, would instantly become solid, and in
solids as I have said, there can be no real life except
perhaps in the form of suspended animation.
“The Space Men face no such danger, for first, their
bodies are protected by this heat-resisting outer cover-
ing: and second, the liquid in their veins freezes only
at absolute zero, and since it is radio-active — ^producing
heat from within itself — it cannot get that cold even
in the void. And that, friends, is the whole stupendous,
simple explanation.”
“And how do the Space Men’s vehicles move?” asked
Jan.
Hekki shook his head. “Except that a strange pro-
pulsive ray is involved, I know very little about it. I
have not yet discovered how the Space Men manage to
produce the ray. The works of Nature ever surpass
the works of man.
“And that is all I have time for now, my friends.
Breakfast is ready aboard ship. Enjoy my hospitality
to the fullest!” Hekki’s mask of smiling sardonic
cruelty had dropped again. He waved something to
Sega.
J ANICE, sensing that she was about to be separated
from her lover, threw herself into his arms. The
series of things she had gone through in the past twen-
ty-four hours had frayed her nerves almost to the
breaking point.
“Don’t let them take me away from you, Austin.
Don’t let them! Oh, Hekki, please!”
Hekalu’s face reddened, and then Sega tore the two
apart. Shelby struggled but it was useless. Sega’s
huge muscles were quite equal to the task of mastering
a dozen of the best fighting men of Earth.
He dragged his captives aboard the Selba, and guided
by the inscrutable Koo Faya, locked them in chambers
from which escape would now be definitely impossible.
Jan was thrust into the room she had occupied before,
but Shelby was put into a chamber somewhat larger
than his original prison.
An almost ungovernable fury had taken iwssession of
the young Earthman. If for only a moment he could
get his hand on the smooth Hekalu! His fingers
clutched and unclutched spasmodically as he hurriedly
paced the room. When presently, he found himself
hammering on the walls with the frenzy of a trapped
gorilla, a realization of where he was headed came to,
him. “Stop where you are, you fool!” he muttered to
himself.
He went to the table where an appetizing breakfast
was set out. He ate a little and then waited a while.
He wanted to make sure that the food was not drugged.
Half an hour passed and he felt no ill effects. He ate
the rest of his breakfast. Then he made several at-
tempts to signal Jan by tapping on the walls, but he
was quite sure that to get a message to her in this
way was now out of the question.
For a long time he gazed out into the sunlit valley
floor from his window. Preparations of some kind
were under way. It looked as though the entire popu-
lation, which must have numbered close to fifteen hun-
dred Space Men all told, was getting ready to move
away en masse. Scores of the strange black people were
hurrying about, lugging loads of weapons and hundreds
of large cylindrical objects into four immense box-like
things of dull metal. Several vehicles, resembling ma-
chines of the Space Men, but many times larger, were
clustered together in a group.
It must have been several hours after Shelby had
been taken into the space ship that two of Alkebar’s
people came to his room, carrying between them the
unconscious form of the Space Man who had been Jan’s
and his fellow prisoner during the night of their ar-
rival on Mars. They threw the limp giant down care-
lessly on one of the bunks, and without a glance at him
or the Earthman, they stamped out.
Shelby would have liked to examine his cell mate
more closely, but owing to the chain which had again
been fastened to his ankle, it was impossible to get
nearer to him than four yards. Who was this creature?
His gorgeously bejeweled harness and his huge size
seemed to indicate that he had been a leader of some
kind. Shelby had noticed that all Space Men who had
a right to command, were somewhat larger than their
fellows.
All through the long Martian day Shelby paced the
length of his tether, pausing occasionally to look out of
the window and to think. By nightfall he was in a
state bordering upon complete dejection. Not that he
was weak; Shelby could face trying situations shoulder
THE REVOLT OF THE STAR MEN
239
to shoulder with the stubbornest and cleverest men that
Earth or Mars could produce. But he was human and
had his limitations. Recapture after a glowing promise
of freedom and safety for his people, his love, and him-
self had almost crushed him.
Only half interestedly he wondered when Hekalu
Selba would strike. He knew that it would be very
soon. In vain he tried to tell himself that he had no
real proof of the Martian’s power, but always a vision
of those black horrors swooping down like living
thunderbolts upon Taboor or New York or Chicago
made him realize how futile would be any resistance
that the planets could offer.
Even if there were but fifteen hundred Space Men,
and Shelby was certain as actual knowledge that there
were many more, and even if they must fight with their
bare hands, still they would be a formidable menace.
Within an hour’s time they could strike in a dozen dif-
ferent places on the surface of a planet. Shelby did
not know that already there were forces of Fate in ac-
tion which neither he nor Hekalu Selba himself had
been able to foresee — forces however, which boded no
good for the worlds.
Koo Faya brought the Earthman his noonday and
evening meal. With each came a note from Hekalu,
both exactly alike: “Remember the Atomic Ray.’’
Doubtless the Martian sought by endless repetition of
this message to undermine his captive’s nerves to a
point where he would divulge the secret.
At dusk there was the sound of activity aboard the
Selba — ^muffled shouts and the drone of generators be-
ing tuned up. Then the slow rocking and swaying of
the vessel which told that her levitator plates were in
action, raising her off the ground, through the atmos-
phere and out into the void.
Shelby looked out of the window, saw that the stars
were growing brighter and the sky blacker. A search-
light was playing from somewhere on the ship, for in
the shadow of the planet it was very dark. The beams
swung back and forth stabbing through the swarms
of Space Men who flew in a cluster about the Selba.
The lights lingered for several instants on the forms of
four great metal cubes that were being lifted up
through the gaseous envelope of Mars by a number of
the larger discs the Earthman had seen resting beside
them in the valley that day.
Shelby threw himself upon his bunk. He gave one
quick glance at the blob of darkness on the other bunk
at the farther end of the room, wondered vaguely who
or what the creature could be, and then, mentally and
physically exhausted, went quickly to sleep.
W HEN he awoke Shelby spent many minutes star-
ing at his fellow prisoner. There were indica-
tions that his consciousness was returning for
he stirred frequently. Presently he who had been the
Earthman’s and the mysterious one’s jailer in the hut
the night before, came, bearing a bowl filled with a
purplish radio-active liquid which served the Space Men
as food. He also carried a hypodermic syringe and a
small glass container partially filled with a clear
fluid.
These last two articles he placed upon the table, while
he carried the bowl over to his charge. He shook the
lacerated and be jeweled Space Man roughly and when
he had aroused him to a sluggish half-consciousness,
held the bowl of liquid food to his lips. Mechanically
the prisoner drank.
Shelby looked at the tiny vial on the table and then
at the back of the jailer. Close beside the vial stood
a glass partially filled with water. The Earthman had
drawn a drink from the tap shortly before going to
bed, and had left the tumbler standing there.
The idea that had now entered his head had no real
purpose. He recognized it as no more than a practical
joke, plain and simple; but the idea was clamoring for
attention. He would pour out the drug, which was
almost certainly meant to keep the giant captive sense-
less, and replace it with harmless water. The jailer
would not see for he was very busy. A little noise, the
rattling of the chain or the tinkling of the glass as it
was set down, would not matter, for though the Space
Men may have possessed a very delicate touch sense
capable of detecting faint vibrations in solid objects
about them, Shelby knew by now that they had no real
organs of hearing.
And so, quickly the deed was done, and quickly he
returned to his bed feigning sleep.
It was a long time after the jailer had departed be-
fore Shelby’s trick bore fruit. The huge prisoner rose
to a sitting posture and looked about, a trifle dazedly at
first. He surveyed his wounds, felt over himself ten-
tatively, and then glanced at Shelby. The Earthman
saw that the fogginess was clearing from his big eyes.
There was a questioning expression in them.
Shelby thought that there was a slight chance that
the colossus might be able to read his lips even though
he could not hear. “Who are you?’’ he questioned in
Pagari.
Apparently the creature understood, for immediately
he turned, and with his forefinger slowly traced out on
the wall behind him in the planetary symbols: “Friend
of enemies of Black Emperor and of Man from Fourth
World.’’
Shelby was taken aback by the Space Man’s startling
knowledge of things of which he should know nothing.
“That makes me your friend,’’ he wrote, smiling.
The giant nodded, and for almost a minute stared
fixedly at the Earthman. There was a strange appeal
in his eyes. Finally he turned, and laboriously he
traced a quaintly worded message on the wall: “Think
hard to know what I go say,” he wrote.
Shelby had heard a good deal about telepathy and
thought transference, depending on etheric vibrations
of some kind, supposedly originating in the mind of
one individual, and capable of being detected and in-
terpreted by the mind of another. Several savants of
Earth and Mars claimed to be adept with it, but owing
to the fact that to master the art required a long period
of intensive practice, it had not come into general use.
Could it be that this savage of the void was claiming
knowledge of it? Sensing the meaning back of the odd
words, the Earthman bent every fibre of his will to the
task of concentrating on the idea of communication.
He gazed fixedly at the eyes of the black mystic, and
presently felt a slight tingling about his temples, and
then, within his brain it seemed that a tiny voice speak-
ing with a queer wording and a peculiar accent, came
to life. It was odd to look at that blank impassive
face and hear those words!
“I know you to be friend of mine,” the voice said.
“I read it in brains. You free me from sleep. But
where are we? What Fourth World Man do? What
for you here?”
Briefly Shelby outlined the events of the past few
days, starting with his meeting with Hekalu. How-
ever, he was careful not to make any mention of the
Atomic Ray. Then, partially through curiosity, and
partially in the hope that the information might be
helpful, he mentally askefl his companion to tell him
more about the Space Men’s relations with the Martian.
“Everything maybe all right,” said the giant. "Maybe
240 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
everybody happy at last. Who know? But I tell you.
We Star People — ^my people Star People. For a long
time, oh, for very long time, we wander out there in
empty places. One million year, two million year, who
know? We free. Maybe find little planet — ^we camp
there — soon gb away. We fight, we hunt. Oh, there
very many of us ! Like sand in sky !
“One day some of us find your sun. We land on little
world. Stay long. Man from Fourth World come in
ship. We frightened, but he make friends. Bring us
gifts. We give jewels and things we make. He learn
our sign language — talk with us — ^tell about his world.
Go away but soon come back. Bring more gifts — ^want
more jewels and things. He take some of us with him
to empty desert where nobody live. Tell us to bring
jewels there to trade, bilt always be careful no one
see!
“He make friends with Black Emperor. They plan.
Gather big army. But many not like Black Emperor
and Fourth World Man. My father, big noble, not like
them; I not like them. They never good to us — make
our people work hard, and take away our animals.
“Civil war soon — my father lead many little tribes,
but Black Emperor and Man from Fourth World win.
Have many strange weapons. Make peace for big
conquest war, and I am hostage on Fourth Planet.
“Mars man good to me at first. I learn languages —
both Pagari and Earth language. I learn to throw
thoughts. My father learned from Mars slave. Then
bad things happen. Fourth World Man not like me
to throw thoughts to my father so far away. He give
me sleep drug. When my father lead revolt again. Mars
Man torture me. Now, as you say, he take me back to
place where army is, on two little worlds.”
A gleam of hope came into Austin Shelby’s eyes, but
it passed quickly. His lips curled bitterly. It was not
well to base one’s hope on the assertion of an unknovra
savage that he could hurl his thoughts across millions
of miles of space.
“By what name are you known, Man of the Void?”
he asked.
The voice in his brain spoke again: “Mars Man
call me Ankova.” Here the giant made a darting
gesture with his hand. “Mean same as so in my sign
language — Darting Meteor.”
“I see. Can you communicate with your father now,
Ankova? — ^get help?”
The Space Man nodded. “My brain clear now,” he
said. “Sleep drug not bother me any more, I talk
right away.”
CHAPTER VIII
The Battle in Space
H e lay back on the bunk and for several minutes
stared fixedly up at nothing. The performance
was reminiscent of the seance of an ancient
spirit meeting. .He sat up, and again his big eyes
fastened themselves upon Shelby, and the uncanny voice
spoke in the Earthman’s brain:
“I get father, He on scouting expedition — very close.
He bring five thousand men to rescue you and me. They
get here maybe three, four hours. My father — his
army same weapons as Black Emperor’s. Flash, flash
— all gone — everything gone.”
There was the sound of movement beyond the door.
Shelby waved his hand in a quick downward gesture
which Ankova interpreted correctly. He slumped limp-
ly upon the bedding in a very excellent counterfeit of
unconsciousness. And then Hekalu Selba entered. His
face was white as chalk, and yet there was nothing in
it that hinted even of a trace of fear — only icy calm.
Behind him was Sega.
“Mr. Shelby,” the Martian said with'' slow cool de-
liberation, “think well. Either you will reveal the
secret of the Atomic Ray immediately or I shall have
you immersed in the juice of the flame flowers.”
Austin Shelby met Hekalu’s chilly stare with a taunt-
ing smile. He sensed in the Martian’s manner that his
plans had met with some serious danger.
“Though I am your prisoner,” he told him, “I be-
lieve that I can defy you. In the first place I do not
fear the tortures that you might inflict upon me.” Here
he took a tiny glass capsule from his sleeve pocket and
placed it in his mouth. “I do not mean by that that
I am super-human, that I can endure any pain. But
should the torture become unbearable I would crunch
the poison vial which I have carried since I joined
the Sekor fraternity back on Mars, between my teeth
and bring death. 'That, I am not afraid of. Besides,
I could give you the formulas for almost any number
of unknown compounds, any one of which might be
the missing crystal for all you might know. It would
be several hours before you would discover that I had
not given you the right one.”
The Martian’s face grew even whiter and harder at
these words. Thoughts and plans flashed through his
mind. Should he tell the Earthman what had happened
— that Alkebar, the Black Emperor, had secretly slipped
through the air lock into space? — ^that he was certainly
intent upon conquering the planets alone? It womd
not be hard to convince the Earthman that the savage
Alkebar would be an infinitely more terrible and- ruth-
less master than any human being ever could be. Per-
haps he could win Shelby to his side for as long as he
needed him. He was wavering, and then, with the
sudden rush of inspiration a better idea came.
“I have told you many times that you are clever, my
friend,” he said with some slight show of his old care-
less air. “Again I compliment you. But listen care-
fully: suppose I took the girl — ^put her in the gentle
embrace of the juice of the flame flowers — ^told you to
produce a formula that would work before I released
her?”
The effect on the Earthman was electrical, but it was
not quite what Hekalu Selba had expected. The blood
red haze of murder rushed before Austin Shelby’s eyes,
and with movements more suggestive of a wounded
panther than a human being he leaped from the bunk
and tore for the Martian with flailing fists. He gave
no thought to the idea that what Hekki had said might
be only a histrionic gesture.
“Oh, God!” he shrieked raspingly, “You Devil! You
unutterable stinking, rotten fiend!” But it was a wild
useless move. Hekalu was lightening quick and sure
with the pistol. He inflicted death, or merely produced
a disabling wound almost at will. And so it was that
Shelby sprawled senseless on the floor with a nasty
though not very dangerous bullet wound across the side
of his head.
Sega and the Martian were bending over him, and
then again the unexpected happened. An ebony form
whose great hands and incredible muscles seemed quite
equal to the task of tearing a gorilla limb from limb,
arose from the other bunk and towered over the Prince
of Selba and his Space Man companion.
The former, hearing a slight sound, turned, and
realizing his peril fired two shots at the mountainous
monster. Then he darted agilely for the door. He gave
one quick backward look — saw the hand of Ankova
descending with trip-hammer force upon the skull of
Sega, and then slammed the stout portal behind him.
THE REVOLT OF THE STAR MEN
241
Sega had been unfortunate, but now all his troubles
were over for his neck was broken. Ankova transferred
to his own belt the weapons of the corpse — his heavy
pistol — his case of atomic grenades — ^his bejeweled war
club. Then he devoted his attention to Shelby.
Gently he carried him to the bunk and made awk-
ward attempts to bandage his head with strips tom
from the bedding. Satisfied at last with the crude but
effective results of his efforts, he strode to the window.
For a long time he stood there, staring. But he saw
nothing that interested him. The ether all about was
crowded with Space Men coursing with the Selba. Ex-
cept for a gentle swaying shifting movement they
seemed to hang perfectly motionless in the void, and
yet their speed was many miles a second.
The fantastic cavalcade aroused no wonder in the
mind of Ankova, for to him they were as prosaic and
commonplace as the grass under the feet of any
Earthian. He cocked his head on one side as though
listening. Perhaps at that moment something was
coming to him from across the endless regions of the
etheric desert — something which only his incredibly
refined telepathic sense could detect.
H IS unshod feet sensed the faint vibration in the
metal floor. Someone was approaching the room.
First taking the precaution of tearing Shelby’s chain
from the wall, he turned and waited before the door
with ready war club. He did not wait long for it
banged open almost immediately. A Space Man ap-
peared. Behind him were others.
Ankova did not ask their mission for he saw that
they wore the insignia that meant loyalty to the man
from the Fourth World. Instead he leaped in to close
quarters. His whirring war club, toothed with sharp
spikes, ripped and tore at the head and shoulders of
the unfortunate warrior. Falteringly, the creature
tried to parry the blows with his own weapon; but it
w^ useless. Before he was able to attain his fighting
stride he was down, the purple radio-active liquid that
flowed in his veins in lieu of blood, dyeing the
threshold. His lips curled in a grimace of agony, but
he made no sound — ^mute he had lived and he died in
the same manner.
Ankova stepped over the prostrate form and en-
gaged the one who had stood behind him. The second
Space Man fared little better. He made but a brief
and unsuccessful defense and then he too went down.
And so Ankova, who before his capture had won fame
among the tribes of the Star People as one of the
mightiest fighters that their race had ever produced,
battled on in the narrow passage until the seven Space
Men whom Hekalu had sent to put him and Austin
Shelby under restraint were either dying or dead.
The victor glanced down the corridor — saw at the
farther end a small portion of the control room’s in-
terior. Koo Faya, the Martian, was there, working
with demoniac haste over switches and dials,
Ankova drew his pistol, started to aim at the slave,
and then thought better of it. There was a tenseness
within the hull of the Selba — something which made a
deep impression on Ankova’s keen intuition. His mus-
cles tautened and a tingling sensation rippled over his
ebony hide. The vibrations of the rocket motors were
more noticeable than usual. Evidently the ship was
tearing along at the greatest speed it could attain. And
it swayed unnaturally.
Ankova knew the layout of the Selba well, for he
had traveled in it often. And now he sensed quite
clearly what was happening. He hurried to a supply
room and selected a space armor from a rack. His
Earthman friend might need it. Then he dashed back
to the room In which he and Shelby had been im-
prisoned.
A glance out of the window confirmed his suspicions
as to what was going on. The force of Space Men
which was acting as an escort for the Selba had ar-
ranged itself in a sort of spherical protecting network
around the craft. Another and superior force was at-
tempting savagely to pierce this formation. The foes
of Hekalu’s henchmen would draw themselves Into
cone-shaped groups and rush the defenders, and the
latter would swarm over the cones like angry and de-
termined hornets. A hot fight was in progress out
there. The ether was lit vrith green flashes of light,
and fragments of the bodies of Space Men and their
vehicles already strewed the void. In this running
battle the Selba was not Idle. Her torpedoes were ex-
ploding among the attackers with blinding glares of
light.
Ankova wondered who the would-be destroyers of the
Selba were. Clearly they were not the forces of his
father, for they had not yet had time to arrive. Some
stray tribe perhaps. He wished that he might see their
insignia, but owing to their distance from the ship and
their eccentric movements, this was impossible. He
did not know that they were the minions of Alkebar
who had turned enemy to Hekalu but a few hours
before.
The Space Man realized that for the time being he
was safe enough, but he took the precaution of planning
for escape from the ship should it become necessary. He
eyed the heavily glazed porthole. A few deft blows
with his war club would shatter that. Beyond, there
were a few discs without Space Men circling about.
With luck it would be possible to capture one. First he
barricaded the door with metal bars torn from the
bunks, and then put the space armor on the still sense-
less Earthman. Then there was nothing to do but wait.
The battle was going against the defenders. Shat-
tering concussions of atomic projectiles banging against
the Selba’s hull made the hurtling vessel pitch and roll
frightfully. The thunder of shells waxed and waned.
It must have been over two hours later that a huge
torpedo set in motion by the forces of the Black Em-
peror, struck the ship. The explosion rolled her com-
pletely over, and tore a jagged though not disabling
hole in her side. The air puffed out from the control
room compartment, but the men who labored so fever-
ishly there, were clad in heavy space armor, and aside
from being badly bruised they were unhurt.
The torpedo was the last gesture of the Alkebarians.
Ankova saw a cloud of luminous specks approaching
from the void at terrific velocity. 'They grew rapidly
brighter. A blue and an orange star shot up from their
midst — ^the identification signal of Telaba, Ankova’s
father. That signal was quite enough for the Black
Emperor’s men. Without waiting to argue they turned
and fled. So quickly did they go that Telaba’s war-
riors were unable to identify them.
T he rebel tribesmen were checking their speed now,
preparing to fight. But still they came on appar-
ently like hurtling comets. They swept the remnants
of Hekalu Selba’s loyalists before them in one terrific
charge, and then they were swarming over the Selba
and through the rent in her side. There was a brief
flurry of pistol shots from the crew before they were
captured and bound.
In a prison compartment aft, Austin Shelby had re-
gained his senses sufficiently to have a vague idea of
what was going on around him. Ankova was support-
242 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
ing him, and he was staggering toward the door. His
mind took up a train of thought from where it had
left off. He was calling for Jan and cursing Hekalu.
Cased as his head was, in an oxygen helmet, his
shrieking voice was magnified a dozen times, and as-
sumed a weird vaulted quality that startled him back
to sensibility.
Ankova read his thoughts, and by telepathy replied
to him: "Your lady? I forget. But we find her. She
all right — sure!”
The Space Man removed the barricade and opened
the door. The sudden outrush of air from the room
almost toppled Shelby from his feet. And then the
Earthman heard a familiar voice in the head-phones of
the radio with which his helmet was equipped: “I’m
in X7, Austin. Let me out if you can.”
"Janice!” he cried, and with new vigor hurried to
the door of the room she had mentioned.
Ankova smashed the lock with his war club and the
portal flew open. Jan was standing there encased in
space armor. She was trying hard to smile.
"You’re safe, darling!” Shelby cried, “And I thought
that that fiend was going to hurt you!”
"My luck,” she said. "Koo Faya was thoughtful
enough to bring this space armor, otherwise, I wouldn’t
have been fit to look at any more.” She pointed to a
shattered window. “And you — heaven’s how you
can yell — and swear! I am ashamed of you!”
Her eyes widened when she looked at Ankova, but
Shelby reassured her. “This is Ankova, and he is our
friend — big shot, too,” he said. "And Jan, I guess
we’re free now — really free.”
Ugly Space Men, some of them gashed and wounded,
crowded about as though bent on destroying the two
feeble Earthlans, But with imperious gestures Ankova
waved them back. He conversed by signs with these
warriors of his father, and then took Janice Darell and
Austin each by the arm.
“Big surprise,” he told them. “Come.”
He led them to the control room. And there, in the
grip of a black colossus was Hekalu Selba — captive.
The Martian nodded perfunctorily to the girl and then
turned his level gaze toward the man. His face showed
no hint of anger, and it seemed that a shadow of a
smile twinkled about his lips.
“Here we have a contrast, Mr. Shelby,” he said
quietly, "triumph and disaster staring at each other!”
Shelby told him that he should be wreaking ven-
geance on the noble for the numerous wrongs he had
done him, but the calm unflinching attitude of the
Prince of Selba made him almost like the captive,
Shelby waved the Martian’s captors back and he stood
free. "There is no contrast now, Akar Hekalu, for an
outsider could not tell which was which!”
As Hekki’s jailer led him away, Shelby, assisted by
Janice Darell, busied himself with the ship’s controls.
And so the battered Selba escorted by five thousand
Space Men set out for a certain minor planet where
were amassed the forces of Telaba, insubordinate
vassal of the Black Emperor. And on another planet
was Alkebar, the Black Emperor himself, ready to hurl
his shock troops, a horde five million strong, at the
planets.
CHAPTER IX
The Revolt of Alkebar
T he light of a shrunken sun shone down coldly and
ineffectually upon a jagged and distorted land-
scape. Along the horizon, which was strangely
abrupt, twisted gray hills loomed up with harsh clear-
ness against a black starlit sky. There was no atmos-
phere to soften their lines, nor to dull the needle-like
points of deepest sable that were their shadows.
In the foreground, which was a fairly level plain,
were hundreds of hemispherical shelters hastily built
from loose fragments of rock. A vast horde of Space
Men hemmed them in. The sunlight glistened on the
ebony hides of the warriors and on their polished ac-
couterments and weapons. Some of these rebels of the
void were greedily drinking the purple radio-active
liquid which meant life and strength to them, and at-
tendants were hurrying about carrying large canisters
of the food to each unit of Telaba’s army. Most of
the men crouched expectantly beside their discs, wait-
ing.
In a small metal building, which the Man from the
Fourth World had recently had constructed for his own
use, four people were gathered. Two were Space Men,
and two belonged to the green planet called Earth,
One of the Space Men was talking, not with his mouth
for he had no vocal cords, but by means of fine mental
vibrations which caused a feeble high-pitched voice to
speak within the minds of the Earthians.
“I owe you great debt of gratitude, Mr. Shelbee —
you help to save my son from Alkebar and Fourth
World Man. Telaba do not forget this. I do what I
can. But that is little. Black Emperor start to smash
Earth and Mars soon. Perhaps right now. Perhaps
in hour. Who know? Spy send signal any time now.
We outnumbered ten to one. Alkebar crush us, wipe
us out like that!” He slapped his palms sharply to-
gether. “But we do what we can, Earthman.”
Shelby took Telaba’s cold hand for a brief hearty
handshake, “Thanks, Telaba,” he said simply. “Jan
and I certainly appreciate what you are going to do for
us and our people, and I know that if we are success-
ful, the worlds shall be mighty grateful too. They
have ways of showing their gratitude. But don’t be
so sure that we are going to fail. We have the Selba,
you know, and a new weapon that has never before
been used.
"Hekalu was good enough to construct an immense
projector for us. Except for the resoldering of a few
wires, and the insertion of a tiny but important crystal
which I happen to be carrying with me, it was complete
and ready for operation.
“The ship is fueled and ready for action at any
moment. When the word comes and we set out, annoy
the forces of Alkebar, but do not engage or mix with
them any more than you have to. I’ll be somewhere
around, ready and glad to spray them.”
“What do you mean, T ?” Jan put in. “It’s ‘we,’ be-
cause I am going along!”
Shelby knew that the undertaking he had in mind
was but an ace from certain death; but he did not
argue with the girl. Her cool wit and nerve would
be very helpful, and besides there was little choice,
for death was grimly in pursuit of all of them.
“Right you are, soldier,” he said laughingly. “My
mistake!”
A red light bulb flashed on the wall, and then, with-
out waiting for permission, a Space Man rushed into
the room, his arms waving wildly, forming frantic signs
of the Star People’s deaf mute language. Bent in a half
crouch, his great arms flexed, Ankova translated for the
benefit of the Earthians:
“Fourth World Man escape — in Selba. Wo are be-
trayed — someone help him. He out of sight already.
Going to help Black Emperor. And now red star bums
in space — spy’s warning — Alkebar forces start!”
Telaba rushed to a big lever and pulled it. Im-
mediately a huge trip hammer began to pound ponder-
THE REVOLT OF THE STAR MEN
243
ousl> on a metal plate set in the ground outside the
building — sending vibrating pulsations out through the
crust of the planetoid — the alarm signal which would
be sensed by everyone of Telaba’s men, telling them to
be ready for instant action.
The four looked at one another. Each knew what
this last move of the Prince of Selba meant, but no
one thought for a moment of giving up the fight.
“It won’t do any good to pursue the Martian,” Shelby
cried. “That ray projector of his — he’d blast us out of
existence. All we can do is try to hinder Alkebar’s
invasion — seek to delay him. If I could only somehow
get through to Mars with the secret of the Atomic
Ray! Telaba, haven’t you a ship capable of carrying
a large enough oxygen supply to last me for the
journey?”
“Never mind!” Ankova cut in. “I go! Many times
I been to Mars. Give me plans. I go right away. I
get them to fight.”
Shelby drew from his sleeve pocket the black case
containing information concerning the Atomic Ray
which he had recovered from Hekalu Selba at the time
of the Martian’s capture. He opened it, and with his
stylus added a brief message to the mass of notes in-
side, and wrote down the formula for a certain com-
plex chemical compound. Then he handed the case to
the Space Man.
“Take it to Alman Mak in the Checkald of Taboor if
you can, Ankova. Good luck.”
The son of the rebel chief hurried from the room
with the missive in his hand. Shelby knew in his heart
that to attempt to get Earth and Mars into action in
time was a useless gesture, but he could not suppress
a thrill of admiration for this wild son of the void.
There was hard mettle in Ankova’s makeup, hard and
true. And most of them were like that — most of Tel-
aba’s men anyway.
“You two come with me,” Telaba was saying. “We
fight together. Put on space suits.” He was tapping
an instrument resembling a telegraph key. In unison
with his movements the heavy signaling hammer
sounded out orders and commands to his forces.
W HEN the Earthians had eased themselves into
their heavy protecting attire, Telaba led the
way down a spiral stair and through an air lock, out
into the open. Here everything was grim silent ac-
tivity. Group after group of mounted Space Men
poured skyward. Telaba’s army was a mighty thing;
with luck it might have beat down the resistance of
either one of the two planets. But when compared with
Alkebar’s colossal horde, it paled into pitiful insignifi-
cance.
Nearby, a space disc, which must have measured
fully two hundred feet in diameter, rested. The three
mounted the light ladder which led to the interior.
In the metal walls were mounted two heat-ray pro-
jectors of Martian design, as well as several torpedo
catapults and machine guns. Two Space Men were
inspecting them.
Telaba signaled to the driver who knelt with lever
in hand. The great disc trembled and the propelling
force which no human being had yet learned how to
produce, sent it and its burden hurtling toward the
stars. The minions of the rebel chief circled and
swirled about their commander’s ship in wild sound-
less salute.
Telaba was operating the signaling mechanism
which fired lights of various colors up through the
roof of the armored coach, and in reply to his hashing
commands, his horde formed a monster cone which
shot with ever increasing speed through the void.
A sickening giddiness came over the two Earthians,
for there were no devices to produce artificial gravity
here. It was the space nausea which had made early
interplanetary travel such a nightmare. The Star Peo-
ple, born where gravity is almost unknovsm, were of
course not affected in the least.
Clinging to stanchions and hand grips to keep them-
selves from floating free, Janice Darell and Austin crept
about the floor examining the weapons and scanning
space ahead for signs of the enemy. They disliked to
admit to each other that they were very sick; but If
they thought that it was possible to forget the retching
pains in their stomachs by diligent devotion to other
things, they were mistaken.
Their suffering continued until Jan remembered that
the force of this almost forgotten malady could be re-
duced by lessening the amount of oxygen taken into the
lungs. A few turns of the intake valves of their helmets
accomplished this, and they soon felt much better.
It was a long time before there were any indica-
tions of the near presence of the enemy. Ahead, two
asteroids glowed, a dull red. One was quite close; the
other farther away. It was Shelby, peering steadily
through his binoculars, who first discovered the glow-
ing cloud, thin and faint like the nebulous substance
of the Milky Way, pouring up like ghosts’ hair from
the rounded pate of the nearer asteroid. He knew that
it was made up of countless points of light, too small
to be detected individually. Not long afterward Telaba
discovered a similar cloud coming from the second of
the minor planets.
The rebel chief’s greatest advantage, if he had any
at all, was that of surprise. Because of its compara-
tively small size his force had probably not yet been
discovered by the enemy.
Coolly he flashed the order for long-range bombard-
ment formation. Instantly the army spread out, form-
ing a thin rectangle whose broadest surface was per-
pendicular to the line of firing between the opposing
hordes.
A second or two later the first rocket torpedoes of
the rebels went, spewing fire, toward their goal. In a
steady swarm others followed them. The missiles were
not radio controlled and fitted with tiny television ap-
paratus as were a few of the torpedoes employed by
the Interplanetary Traffic Lane Patrol, but since the
approximate range was known, it was easy to set the
time fuses so that the atomic charges would explode in
the midst of the densely-packed enemy.
Without asking anyone’s permission, the Earthians
had appropriated a pair of catapults and were working
them like demons. As fast as they could cram the
ten-pound rockets into the breeches of the tubes, the
projectiles streaked out in flashes of green flame toward
the nearest of the nebulous clouds.
Shelby was sweating furiously from the exertion, and
the moisture absorption apparatus of his space armor
was putting in some tough service.
Occasionally he glanced at Janice working beside
him. Her face, visible through the glazed front of
her helmet, was white and set — almost hard. And there
was boundless determination in the firm curve of her
little rounded chin. He liked her attitude, but it was
better to take it easy until the real fighting began.
“Slow up a bit, soldier,” he remarked into his trans-
mitter. “Powder your nose!”
Her face brightened as she turned toward him. “I
wish I could powder my nose,” she said, pouting. “Only
I can’t reach it!”
244 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
“Too bad. These space suits rob a girl of so many
of her exquisite little tricks.”
“Well,” she put in, “I can still cover up my yawns
with my hand if I find this pastime too much of a bore.”
They both chuckled at this little Joke.
Janice took the last missile from the case she had
been emptying and rammed it home. She jerked the
lanyard, and with a thudding jolt the torpedo was on
its way. Then she paused to scan the horde of
Alkebar through an observation port. “Hurrah,” she
cried, “we’re scoring!”
W ITHOUT discontinuing his hurried feeding of his
smoldering piece, Shelby looked up. The cloud
had sfrown considerably in the few moments of action.
It had cleared the asteroid now, and the other nebulous
spot that marked the position of the Black Emperor’s
second army, was coming up to merge with it. In the
midst of the first cloud, hundreds of minute specks of
light were flashing — the atomic torpedoes were ex-
ploding. The sight reminded Shelby of what he had so
often seen through the lens of a spintharoscope.
Alkebar’s army continued to increase rapidly in ap-
parent size. It looked like a monster amoeba. But
now the amoeba was beginning to writhe, to swell up
and grow dimmer. It shot out long sinuous pseudopods
that seemed to grope angrily. Both Earthians sensed
that the fight was about to begin in earnest.
With renewed vigor they fell to the task of loading
and discharging the catapults; and close beside them
the two Space Men who acted as gunners, labored coolly
and methodically over their weapons, but with even
greater elBciency, for their training had been long and
thorough.
Telaba worked the levers of the signaling mechan-
ism, and a brilliant purple star visible to all his hench-
men shot up over the back of his beast. They saw it
and read its meaning. Spread out to avoid enemy fire!
As one man they obeyed, but they were none too soon.
With abrupt suddenness the maelstrom of silent flash-
ing death was upon them.
It was a pretty sight to the Earthians — ^those sound-
less globes of green flame that glowed dazzling for an
infinitesimal instant, on the rich jewels and polished
rifle barrels of the hordesmen coursing close by. But
they were not deceived.
A Space Man vanished, torn to tiny fragments that
mixed with the cosmic dust of the void. A huge disc,
bearing a cylindrical battle car, was hit, and a jagged
hole tom in its side. It twisted crazily, turning over
and over. Austin and Jan felt the vibration of shell
fragments banging violently against their own
vehicle.
The nearer nebulous cloud had ceased to be a cloud
now. It had resolved itself into a myriad swarm of
dim specks which the Earthians knew were Space
Men. Plainly Alkebar’s minions were charging rapid-
ly, bent on wiping Telaba’s smaller force out of exist-
ence at one blow.
The bombardment doubled, tripled, quadrupled in in-
tensity until it seemed that all space had turned to fire.
Before the withering blast the army of the rebel chief
was speedily being dissolved into drifting wreckage.
An exploding torpedo ripped several yards of armor
from one side of Telaba’s vehicle and reduced one of
his black gunners to a mangled pulp from which the
purple fluid spurted.
The force of the concussion turned the great disc
completely over. Battered and blinded by the green
glare, which exceeded even the sun of the void in in-
tensity, the Earthians tumbled against their weapons.
Janice Darell started to scream but managed to check
it — ^biting her lips savagely.
An explosive rifle bullet struck the huge vehicle, and
it wavered.
Shelby spoke to Telaba who was clinging firmly to
a stanchion with one hand and operating his signaling
machine with the other. “Turn back, chief,” the Earth-
man advised. “Our only motive is to annoy them and
delay them. To continue this charge can mean nothing
but destruction for our entire force.”
Telaba sensed the mental vibrations that went with
Shelby’s words. “To turn back cannot do, Earthman,”
he said. And it seemed to the young engineer that
there was a vibrant note of sadness in his telepathic
voice “Look! You see all guns and catapults point
forward only. Not swing to rear — same on all gun
cars. If run, not possible to shoot at chasing enemy.
Then they get us. That Alkebar’s idea so his men must
take offensive or die. He think that make them strong.”
“But the riflemen are not so handicapped,” Shelby
persisted, “We can die here if necessary, but someone
must live to carry on. Order them back!”
The chieftain shook his bulbous head. “To try what
you say — useless. They not desert comrades or king.
If I command, they disobey.” There was a finality in
his words which neither of the Earthians tried to
dispute.
So that was it! Well, there was no sense wasting
time talking. Shelby gripped a machine gun and sent
a spray of explosive bullets ripping out into the ether.
Janice did likewise.
As they worked their weapons they spoke rapidly
to each other. “You understood what Telaba said?
You know what that means?” Shelby asked.
“Yes. It’s about the end of our tape, but that’s
nothing. We’ve been fairly lucky. All we can do now
is hope that Ankova wins through to Mars in time, and
fight like — like — ”
"Hell!” Shelby’s words slipped between clenched
teeth, and Jan flashed him a quick smile even as their
tracer streams crossed in the midst of a group of hur-
tling Alkebarians who had pressed too close together.
"Anyway, good luck!”
"And the very best of luck to you!”
The opposing forces were very close together now.
The first of the Alkebarians were plainly visible — their
long guns flashing — ^their ebony arms waving signals
which probably passed for shouts of triumph among
their ranks.
CHAPTER X
The Coming of the Atomic Ray
B oth armies had cut down their velocity enormous-
. ly, but still they tore along at breakneck speed.
' And they moved like true Cossacks of the void,
directing their machines by deft motions on the mys-
terious levers. Now diving, now climbing, now swing-
ing this way and that to avoid the missiles of their
opponents, they tore on. And death was everywhere.
No torpedoes were flying now, but machine guns and
rifles were working terrible havoc. And so the horde
of Alkebar closed with the forces of the rebel chieftain.
The machine which bore Telaba, directed by its skill-
ful driver, dived and swung and zigzagged like a mad
thing; but still the bullets rattled against the metal
armor of the car. Its sides had been repeatedly struck,
yet owing to its tough shell, had not yet been dis-
abled.
Everywhere about it, mounted horrors whirled in an
inextricable tangle, shooting and loading, and dying by
the green flashes, their vitals strewing the ether.
THE REVOLT OF THE STAR MEN
245
Telaba had deserted his post at the signaling ma-
chine, for further orders were useless. For his rebels
at least, it was every man for himself. He too was
operating a machine gun.
The stars spun dizzily about the Earthians, as the
machine beneath them careened in its insane flight.
Every time a Space Man wearing a red circle on his
breast crossed their sights, a burst spat from their
hot weapons, frequently with good results,
A group of at least twenty Aikebarlans sought to
attack from the blind spot at the rear. But the driver
twisted levers with a quick jerk, and the luckless rifle-
men found themselves facing four streams of steel.
Those that could, darted out of range and renewed the
attack from a different angle.
Frequently, throughout the battle, Shelby had won-
dered what had happened to Hekalu Selba and the
Atomic Ray. Why wasn’t he on hand to assist his
ally, the Black Emperor? Oh, well, regardless of
whether the Martian was there or not the outcome
would evidently be the same — only now it would be
more dragged out.
The Earthian was surprised therefore, when sud-
denly the efforts of the enemy to exterminate them,
which had been so intense in the- brief moments since
they had closed, suddenly lessened, Alkebarians were
darting hastily toward the rear. Their actions did not
suggest flight ; it seemed that they were going to meet
a new and more terrible enemy. 'The rebels could wait.
And the people of the rebel chief for the moment did
not pursue — did not even fire. For they too saw! To
the rear, in the center of Alkebar’s horde, came the
dazzling flares of explosions. So many and so close
together were they, that they looked like a titanic
conflagration of green flame. Against the light, the
silhouettes of confused and bewildered space riders
careened, like frightened pollywogs. The holocaust
moved — swung. It was like a tapered column of fire
veiled by a faint bluish haze.
The Earthians, Telaba, and the two remaining Space
Men, forgetful of everything else, were staring in awed
wonder at the phenomenon through the forward ob-
servation bay. It was Shelby who found the first part
of the explanation.
“It’s the Atomic Ray!” he almost shrieked, “Freeing
the atomic energy in the materials that make up the
bodies of Alkebar’s men — ^literally causing their flesh
and bones to explode! But how — ^what the devil — !”
“Lookl” cried Jan. She pointed far up over their
heads to where the cone of faintly bluish light swung,
free from the milling horde. Up and up to its apex,
and there hung what appeared to be a tiny cocoon of
burnished silver.
The girl peered through her binoculars for a long
moment. “I see the name. It is the Selba,” she said.
“Hekalu has made a mistake — ^he’s attacking the wrong
force 1 Or — or some ally of ours has gained control of
the ship!” she hazarded.
"No time to make guess now,” said Telaba. “To
fight, much better.” He had returned to the signaling
mechanism, and was working it with cool efliciency,
rallying his battered forces.
Like tigers they fell upon the Alkebarians, shatter-
ing them out of existence with a steady storm of rifle
bullets. They met with only a weak resistance for the
foe seemed to realize that the fates had played them
false. The blue ray had been their promise, and now,
like the sword of their ancient god of destruction, it
was vreavlng calmly this way and that, snuffing them
into nothingness. The Black Emperor’s horde was dis-
solving, scattering.
Battalions of terrified Space Men poured past the
rebel chieftain’s car, shooting only hurried and inef-
fective volleys at their enemies, who pressed fiercely
upon them. And never did Jan and Shelby miss a
chance to spray them with searing bursts of machine-
gun fire.
There was a lull. The Earthians took the opportun-
ity to look up at the angel of death that was the Selba,
far above. Most of Alkebar’s huge army had already
perished, or had dispersed in flight into the desert of
space from which it had been recruited. But that the
space ship would presently be engaged in a serious
fight was evident.
A DETERMINED force which must have numbered
a hundred thousand, was hurtling up at it, sur-
rounding the craft with a halo of bursting torpedoes.
At the head of the body of Space Men was a huge beast
bearing on its back a car similar to Telaba’s. Veri-
colored signal stars spurted from it. Alkebar himself
must be in it directing operations!
Coolly the guiding hand aboard the Selba was swing-
ing his dreadful weapon this way and that, annihilat-
ing the attackers as one might annihilate a swarm of
mosquitoes with a blovirtorch. Half of them had al-
ready been reduced to those basic, intangible vibrations
which constitute all substance. It was terrible, it was
glorious; but what could it all mean? Hekalu’s ship!
The still formidable remnants of the vengeance
squadron was seeking to close in — ^to grapple with the
vessel. The Selba was trying to dart out of their way,
but the speed of the Space Men, a gift of Nature, was
greater than that of this fastest ship designed by man.
Grimly, in the face of almost, certain death, they kept
on. A score or so succeeded in landing on the curving
hull, and, like leeches they clung to it. The Atomic
Ray arched angrily, cutting a deep swath through those
who still sought a hold.
And then the gleaming form of the Selba was com-
pletely hidden by the swarm of enraged horrors that
poured over it. The Atomic Ray was snuffed out The
beholders saw the air lock being pried open, and the
Space Men crowding into the interior of the craft. For
a second the Selba wobbled crazily, and then her rocket
motors ceased to flame.
“What are we waiting for? We have friends up
there!” Jan cried.
Telaba flashed his orders, and the entire cavalcade
charged toward the vessel, their guns spewing flame.
It was only a matter of a minute or so before that
hurtling torrent of rebels had swept the Alkebarians
from their prey. Those of the Black Emperor’s men
who had forced their way into the ship managed to
hold the entrance for a short time, but under the urg-
ings of their intrepid chief, the zealous rebels shot and
hewed their enemies down as though they had been
paper marionettes. The way was clear.
Telaba waved an order to his driver, and the space
beast drew up alongside the Selba. Expectantly eager,
the Earthians clambered aboard, followed by the chief.
The ship was a shambles. Its corridors were littered
■with bodies of Space Men who wore on their breasts
the red circle which signified loyalty to the Black Em-
peror. Telaba’s followers had done well.
The three made their way to the control room. In-
tuitively they had sensed what they would find there,
and so, they were not surprised at what they saw —
wreckage and the carcasses of Alkebar’s warriors. The
Martian had put up a stiff fight.
Shelby bent over the armored form of Akar Hekalu
(Concluded on page 269)
The ship was now coming close to the vast curve of the crystal city. The
earthmen became aware that the part below the city level was a dull ugly black.
246
THE METAL MOON
Based upon the Fourth Prize ($10.00) winning plot of the Interplanetary Plot Contest
won by Everett C. Smith, 116 East St., Lawrence, Mass.
T he three men in the tiny space ship showed their
apprehension as they watched the gravity meters.
Something was distinctly wrong with the ship.
“Are you sure that
there isn’t some, un-
discovered moon of
Jupiter?” asked the
youngest of them. He
was only about 25,
which was very
young indeed when
his scientific attain-
ments were consid-
ered, even for the hu-
man race’s stage of
intellectual develop-
ment in 1,000,144 A.
D. His figure was
stocky, powerful, his
face rather thin, bold,
with piercing black
eyes. He was naked,
save for short, bril-
liantly red trunks of
metalsilk. His name,
“Sine,” followed by a
numerical identifica-
tion code, was tat-
tooed indelibly in
thin, sharp charac-
ters on his broad,
bronze-hard chest.
The Irian at the
ampliscope removed
his head from the
eyepiece and shook
his head impatiently.
His body was bronzed
and spare, but the
complete absence of
hair on his head
made him look older
than the 48 years in-
dicated by the code
following the name on
his chest, "Kass.”
“I tell you. Sine,
this pull is no grav-
ity effect. No body of
such mass could be
invisible, unless it
were composed en-
tirely of protons. And
even then it would
yank Jupiter out of
shape, making it look
like a pear, but
there — ”
Jupiter presented
its usual appearance.
The solar system’s largest planet seemed enormous at
this distance of only a few million miles. It showed
its usual marked depression at the poles, but no dis-
tortion such as might be caused by a nearby body of
enormous mass.
“What do you think, Lents?” Kass turned to the
third occupant of the little space ship. Lents raised
his broad placid face from the pad upon which he had
been figuring a complicated equation. He was a large
man, slow-moving, and fat. He was sensitive to that
fact, so that, besides the usual trunks, he also wore a
toga - like garment.
His brown eyes
blinked in folds of
flesh.
“No doubt you’re
right, Kass,” Lents
rumbled in a deep
voice. “I can’t see
how such a body
could exist without
pulling all of Jup-
iter’s moons to itself.
No, we seem to be
specially honored by
its attention.”
They looked at one
another soberly.
“The question is,
can it out-pull us?”
Sine remarked.
“Y o u ought to
know,” Kass said.
“You designed and
built her.”
Sine made his way
forward. It was no
longer necessary to
use the handholds,
for the pull of the
mysterious body was
already so powerful
that it entirely elim-
inated the free float-
ing so familiar to
space travelers. Sine
looked through the
grated outlook win-
dows, past the grace-
fully curved bow of
the ship. At the very
tip was the ether
screw of his inven-
tion, resembling the
screws used for water
propulsion in ancient
times, except that the
pitch was extremely
sharp. The tachom-
eter showed that the
screw had slowed
down to 50,000 revo-
lutions a minute,
although the ther-
mometer indicated
that the molecular
bearings were still
reasonably cool. But
how long could she stand the strain? How long, in-
deed, could the sturdy little atomic motor keep those
blades turning? It was designed to pull directly away
at a distance of only a million miles from the sun, and
yet it was being beaten far out here in space by an
object as yet invisible.
“What a crash that’ll be!” Sine murmured, watching
the agony of tortured metal.
EVERETT C. SMITH R. F. STARZL
TN THIS story, the joint product of two
imaginative minds, we get a very unusual
picture of some of the possibilities of inter-
planetary exploration.
We know that as soon as interplanetary
travel is possible, expeditions from the earth
will be ranging the length and breadth of the
solar system searching out the thousands of
wonders that are to be discovered.
It is quite possible that some of the explor-
ers, whether through accident or desire, may
colonize the other planets and develop under
new and unusual conditions a new branch
of the human race. It is doubtlessly true
that if each of the solar planets were to be
colonized, at the end of several hundred cen-
turies there would be nine races of human
beings who might difEer radically from each
other and in fact might not recognize each
other as members of the same human stock.
In this story we do not see nine races but
we do see four of them and Mr. Starzl has
united the four in a gripping narrative of the
great spaces.
247
248 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
Amidship, Kaes was again studying the eyepiece of
the ampliscope. Suddenly he stiffened.
'“I see It ! Why, It can’t be over a couple of hundred
feet in diameter. Cylindrical, I think. Head on to us
now.”
They crowded around him. Lents, with hasty compu-
tations, determined that they were still about three
thousand miles from the object,
"No chance to pull away from it, if we pull straight,”
and his heavy voice was full of energy as his sleepiness
vanished with the need for action. "Set her over. Sine,
about 40 degrees. Try for a circular orbit around it —
if we can get up enough speed centrifugal force will
save us!”
Sine did as he was told, and the ship heeled over so
that it presented its side to the sinister object, which
was still invisible to the unassisted eye. While Kass
watched it through the ampliscope, his companions
stared through the thick ports at the velvet, gem-
studded firmament. They could feel the attraction
growing with terrifying speed.
"It’s turning with us,” Kass announced, “and getting
closer. If we can swing around it, it will be a very
sharp ellipse indeed!”
"Try and see if you can get a few more revs out
of the screw,” Lents suggested, and Sine crept for-
ward, his powerful muscles straining against the pull.
He lifted the leaden weight of his arm to the lever.
He must get a little more power out of the motor, or
they would crash to their deaths in a few minutes!
A fine ending for their daring dash to Jupiter — the
first space flight since the great comet swarm of
800,768 A. D.
Sine pulled back hard on the lever, and the motor
gamely responded, moaned and shuddered under the
tremendous overload. The tachometer needle quivered,
began to climb, 62,000, 55,000, 56,000
The ship gave a lurch — there was a dull grinding, a
hollow, metallic groan. The men picked themselves up
from the floor — realizing at once the fatal significance
of the lack of effort required. Their movement carried
them off the floor — ^made them grasp handholds. Float-
ing free ! That meant falling free !
Sine glanced at the tachometer. The dead needle
stood at zero. Through the forward window he could
see one of the four screw blades, black, motionless.
Lents, obeying the habits of a lifetime, elbow hooked
in a handhold, was figuring the time required for them
to strike. He looked up with a puzzled frown.
"We should have struck about right now! Check on
that body’s position, will you, Kass?”
T he bald-headed scientist pulled himself to the
ampliscope. But it was possible to see the object
through the ports now, quite plainly. It was black,
cylindrical, glinting dully in the sun’s light. The space
ship was tumbling end over end, lazily, bringing the
thing into view first at one port — then another.
“No acceleration!” Kass reported, amazement min-
gling with hope. "Same speed — we may still hit — but
no evidence of gravity. We’re falling toward it on mo-
mentum alone!”
Lents’ brown eyes twinkled with perplexity in their
pits of fat.
“The force, whatever it is, doesn’t seem like anything
in nature. But if we’re traveling on momentum alone
we can pull away with our emergency rockets — though
I hate to waste the fuel.”
Sine leaped to the rocket controls, "Grab hand-
holds!” he snapped over his shoulder. The men rolled
into the padded niches provided for that purpose. Sine’s
niche was so placed that it would not be necessary to
lift a hand against the tremendous pressure of rocket
acceleration. A lateral swing of the lever along its
quadrant operated the rockets.
"Oof!” came a smothered exclamation from Lents
as the ship seemed to pause, to leap forward in space
again. The star-studded heavens as seen through the
ports were hidden by a curtain of flame, electric blue
and as stiff seeming as a steel bar — the trail of the
forward rockets.
For some minutes there was no sound save the sub-
dued thunder of the hull as it trembled under the tug
of the rockets. Then a light flashed redly and a gong
sounded. The signal that meant, "fuel half gone.” Sine
shut off the power, crawled out stiffly. His first glance
out of a port showed that they were still falling toward
the mysterious cylindrical space wanderer.
Kass wiped the sweat from his bald head.
“No use wasting any more effort,” he said hoarsely.
“That thing is a space ship, and there are men in it.
The force they have been using on us is some kind of
gravity beam — probably it’s also their means of space
propulsion. They mean to capture us, no doubt ”
“And they’ve reversed the beam!” Lents puffed as
he turned away from the ampliscope, pulling his sweat-
soaked toga away from his fat body with thumb and
forefinger. "We’re decelerating fast, but we can’t feel
it because the force acts on every particle of our bodies
exactly the same as on the ship ”
“Proving,” added Sine, looking out of the port curi-
ously, "that it’s a true gravity beam!”
The utter stillness of their ship gave the illusion that
she was motionless, and that the sinister stranger was
drifting toward them.
"It is a ship!” Lents rumbled. "Look at her ports.
But they’re shuttered.”
“Not a bad idea,” Sine agreed. "Protection against
pin-point meteorites, anyway.” They saw now that the
cylinder was slightly rounded at each end, and the end
presented to them had at its nose a circular projection,
not unlike a very large button, that glowed with a lav-
ender light, which they guessed to be the source of the
gravity beam.
They were torn between the excitement of discovery
and a very natural apprehension. In the dim past,
more than 200,000 years ago, there had been a regular
commerce between Earth and the Jovian colonies. But
the comet swarm, coming out of the mysterious depths
of space, had released to the solar system such swarms
of meteorites as to make interplanetary travel in the
spatial belt between Mars and Jupiter utterly suicidal.
It required the passing of two thousand centuries to
thin them out sufficiently to -permit the voyage of ex-
ploration in which these three men were engaged.
What would these children of Earth look like after
200,000 years of Jovian evolution? Would they be
friendly?
They must, at any rate, be curious people. The great
cylinder was passing over them, and they had a better
conception of its size. It was at least twice as big as
the 200-foot diameter Kass had estimated, and fully
1500 feet long. A section of its hull slid open, and the
scientists felt the tug of mysterious forces on their
own little vessel. They drifted up into the opening,
knew that the hatch had closed by the shutting out of
the solar glare. But there was no lack of light. They
could see the welded plates of the hull by an intense
saffron light that came from oval plates set in the wall.
More of the gravity buttons were ranged around the
room. It appeared that they were regularly used in
handling freight. Now, as the little captive ship was
THE METAL MOON
249
tugged here and there, the prisoners could see flashes
of that penetrating lavender light that seemed some-
how solid.
“Get ready, men!” Sine said, breaking off his ab-
sorbed contemplation of their surroundings. “Strap on
your belts, and be sure your disintegrator tubes are in
their clips."
Lents was already lifting his toga and snapping his
weapon belt around his ample waist. A mere strip of
flexible metal with pockets for the atobombs and a clip
for the delicate little tube — it might easily be taken
for a mere ornamental article of apparel.
“Hope they’re friendly,” Kass remarked, patting the
buckle shut over his flat diaphragm, “but if they aren’t
we can give ’em a thing or two to think about.”
The quartz ports, kept free from frost on the inside
by a curtain of hot dry air blown over them through a
slit, suddenly misted over on the outside, became opaque
with a milky glaze of frost. This told the prisoners
that their captors were “bleeding” air into the hold,
which did double duty as an airlock. They heard vague
clanging of metal on metal, transmitted to them
through the hull of their ship. Then a sharp blade
scraped away the ice from one of the ports, and a face
peered in.
They looked at one another for a few moments, these
cousins of the human race, separated by 200,000 years
of time and impassable meteor-strewn wastes of space.
The man at the port turned and beckoned to others,
who also surveyed the prisoners.
Then the first one, evidently the chief of this massive
space vessel, motioned to the prisoners, to open their
manports.
‘ “Keep together now!” Sine admonished his com-
panions. “If they act unfriendly we’ll let them have
the ray. Then you two slip back into your own ship
while I grab this vacuum suit out of the lock. With
that on I can carve a way out, and disable them, too.”
“It would be a shame!” Kass said as he whirled the
handwheel of the inner manport, “but ”
The valve opened, and a few minutes later the three
Earthmen stepped out to confront the Jovians.
There were half a dozen of them, standing firmly, by
virtue of the artificial gravity, somehow produced. They
were not far different from Earthmen, except that they
were shorter, being barely five feet tall. Their tre-
mendous muscles told of the race’s adaptation to the su-
perior gravity of Jupiter. Their feet, encased in
slippers of some burnished material, were unusually
large.
They were dressed in an armor of overlapping scales
that covered every part of their bodies, even their
fingers. But their heads, instead of being armored,
were protected by a thin, transparent membrane that
followed the shape of their features closely. The
Earthmen recognized the protective covering used be-
fore the comet swarm as a defense against the then
used heat ray. So the Jovians had developed no new
weapon! Sine thought comfortably of his little dis-
integrator tube. He could make those armored men
vanish like puffs of smoke.
But they made no hostile move, and Sine had leisure
to notice their faces. If their bodies were too heavily
muscled for grace, their heads atoned for that defect.
These were truly Jovian, god-like, combining intense
virility, dominance, courage. But there was also about
them an expression of intolerance, of ruthlessness, of
selfishness. Here were men, it could be seen, who
would not be too scrupulous in attaining their ends.
But men, too, who could be charming companions.
Their leader, the man who had first looked into the
port, now detached himself from the group and came
forward, his hand outstretched in the old Earth gesture
of friendliness. His appearance had all the character-
istics of his companions, but in a more striking degree.
He was taller than they, more than five feet, and his
broad shoulders had the confident bearing of accus-
tomed command. He spoke, in a pleasant, vibrant bari-
tone:
“Welcome, men of Earth. Sorry for our little mis-
understanding.”
Sine gripped his hand, returned the muscular grip.
“It took us a little while to know what you were.
And I may add that I’m pleasantly surprised that we
can still understand each other.”
The Jovian shrugged his shoulder:
“Canned speech. No chance for a language to evolve
when it’s mechanically recorded. But come up to my
cabin. It’s chilly here, and your manner of dress ”
“That has changed!” Sine smiled. “Lents and Kass,
will you go ahead?”
CHAPTER II
The Pleasure Bubble
A fter the first suspicions had worn off, cne
Earthmen felt that they had been singularly for-
tunate. To be captured by these intelligent
beings had been about the most convenient thing that
could happen to them. They might have found the
human race entirely wiped out on the gloomy planet.
Or they might have been struck by one of the still in-
conveniently numerous meteorites which would mean,
at the very least, being marooned. Had they possessed
the ability to look into the future they would not have
rested quite so complacently in the hammocks assigned
to them in the great patrol ship.
The big Jovian, they learned, was chief of the ship.
He told them his name was Musters, and introduced
his officers. They were an intelligent, efficient lot.
From them the Earthmen learned something of the
social organization of the human race as it survived on
Jupiter.
“The race followed its natural evolution,” intelligent
and handsome young Lieutenant Reko explained to Sine
as they leaned against a railing and gazed out of an
unshuttered port at the somber splendors of Jupiter as
it gradually swelled and covered the firmament.
“Like mated to like, and so the superior individuals
became more superior, and the inferior ones more in-
ferior. This resulted eventually in two races. Nat-
urally we took steps to properly segregate the inferior
race. Our efficiency experts have found ways to put
them to work — ^to make them quite useful in fact. Of
course we could not trust them with our weapons, our
ships, our really important central power plants ”
What were these inferior — ^these so-called Mugs—
what were they like? Reko arched aristocratic eye-
brows. Why, they were often quite human in their
appearance — though occupational diseases, and so
forth . Sine gained the impression that they were
kept out of the way in order not to disturb the esthetic
comfort of the superior race.
“There was a time when we had trouble with them,”
Lieutenant Reko said. * There were trouble makers
among them. They attacked the homes of the First
race, seized power control stations. Not fifty years ago
there was an insurrection. But the Mugs lost. Thous-
ands upon thousands of them were driven into the
swamps and caves on the edge of the Tenebrian Sea.
They were never seen again, although we searched for
them with our heat rays. Perished, no doubt.”
None were left now, Reko said, except those actually
260 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
and fully occupiefd at certain labors for which they
were found efficient. They were allowed to reproduce
in sufficient numbers to fill the requirements — no more.
“What a rotten fate!’’ Sine exclaimed.
"They are quite a terrible people,’’ Reko pointed out,
closing a distasteful subject.
A few sleep periods later Musters called his terres-
trial guests to his cabin.
“I have a pleasant surprise for you,’’ he told them in
his musical baritone. “Our planetary conference would
wish for me to give you a most pleasant impression of
Jupiter, so that interplanetary relations may be re-
sumed under the best possible conditions. For that
reason I am going to land you on a satellite that I’ll
wager will be a revelation to you. It is the goal and
object of every one of our people. But it is costly and
only a small portion of our population can be accom-
modated at a time. You may judge the kind of place
it is by the name the public has given it: ‘The Pleas-
ure Bubble.’ Come to the astrogator’s cabin now; I’ll
show it to you.’’
They followed Musters to a compartment in the
rounded bow of the great ship, stared out of a quartz
port between opened shutters.
They saw Jupiter, immense, formidable, a mass of
turbulent vapors, a depressingly drab scene. Suddenly
Lenta exclaimed, incredulous;
"Look! A satellite! There is no satellite this close
to Jupiter! It’s mathematically impossible!’’
Musters laughed jovially. “It’s there, isn’t it? That’s
Jupiter’s tenth satellite — The Bubble. It is less than
100,000 miles from the vapor envelope and has to travel
so fast that its period is less than 8 hours. It was built
by the First Race and set on its orbit so that our
people would have a place where they could enjoy the
sun, which is never seen from Jupiter’s surface.”
"It is a bubble!” Kass remarked, after an absorbed
study of the satellite. It was racing just beneath them,
at a dizzy speed, like a bubble blown before the wind.
The ship followed the satellite, drawing closer, so that
it grew in size and beauty.
L ents was mentally calculating the rupturing pres-
sure exerted by the atmospheric pressure inside
the crystalline ball. He stopped aghast at the thought
of the tremendous strain.
"That crystalline material stands the strain easily,”
Musters assured them. "It will resist an 3 rthing but a
direct hit by a very large meteorite. As you can see
now, the sphere, which is about a mile in diameter, is
bi-sected by a plane surface, on which the city is built.
In that little area you will see reproduced the choicest
conditions of Earth.” He turned earnest, hungry eyes
on them:
“You don’t know how lucky you people of Earth are!”
The ship was now coming quite close to the vast
curve of the crystal, and they could see glimpses of
beautiful structures in fairylike colorings, of small
lakes like exquisite gems, of brilliant bursts of light
that they conjectured served as substitutes for the
sun while it was occulted by the enormous bulk of the
planet.
Steadily the ship swept downward, to the level of the
city, and the Earthmen became aware that the entire
sphere was not transparent crystal. The part below
the city level was a dull, ugly black.
"That’s where the machinery is,” Musters answered
their questions, somewhat shortly, it seemed. "Hydro-
gen Integrators there — ^to generate the power. Leakage
of injurious rays down there — couldn’t expect the First
race to work there.”
"Who does run the machinery?” Sine asked curi-
ously.
‘"The labor Mugs, of course!” And Musters changed
the subject.
The chief left them to their own devices as he super-
intended the lining up of the big ship’s airlocks with
the lock gasket of The Bubble. This effected, he bid his
guests courteous farewell, assuring them that their ship
would be conveyed to the Jovian capital city of Rubio,
where they would be given every facility for repairing
their damaged motor.
Sine was awakened by the talking of Kass and Lenta
as they sat at their breakfast in their unimaginably
luxurious apartment. They were near the top of one of
the fairylike towers they had glimpsed, and through
the crystalline roof they could see the blackness of star-
studded space. Far above was the glint of slanting
sunlight on the outer covering of the sphere. This was
the fourth morning on The Bubble, and the Earthmen
were beginning to become vaguely restless. Their hosts
had entertained them royally, but —
"I didn’t see anything funny about the way they
shoved that labor Mug out of the airlock,” Lents was
saying. “The poor devil! Stole a little of the juice
they call ambrosia. The way that elegant over-civil-
ized crowd laughed!”
“They lined up and watched the body floating along-
side,” Kass added somberly. "And that Mug was as
human as you or I.”
Their words recalled the scene vividly to Sine’s mind.
The broad, green field between two crescent lakes. The
beetling-browed wretch, with eyes full of fear that
darted from side to side, led to the center of the field
by two splendidly armed warriors, there to be left alone
in an agony of uncertainty.
He saw again the half-hundred clean-limbed athletes,
sons of rich Jovian families. They were lined upon
each side of the field. At the signal they dashed in.
The frightened labor Mug tried to escape. As one team
closed in he doubled, ran directly toward the others,
saw his mistake too late. There was a brief savage
scrimmage, and the unfortunate victim was stretched
unconscious on the sward, while the victors and the
vanquished in this curious game joined arms and made
for the baths where exquisite nymphs peered coquet-
tishly from behind delicately proportioned columns.
Sine reaped uncomprehending and resentful stares
when he declined to join them.
"Too rich for my blood,” Sine told his companions at
breakfast as they discussed their experiences. "Hope
they take us to Rubio soon. We’ve done our job, and
as for me, I’m not cut out for high society.”
After they had completed their breakfast a giri came
hesitatingly into their chamber. Sine stared at her
curiously. She had none of the enameled beauty of the
women he had seen until then, but in her young face
was a subdued comeliness that was attractive after
the assertive pulchritude that was universal among the
young women of the First Race. Unlike the shrewd
display of their chiseled perfection, this girl’s slender,
rounded body was wrapped in a thin, gray garment
that concealed as it draped. It was caught by a cord
around her waist. Her feet, smaller and more fragile
than the sturdy Jovian standard, were encased in neu-
tral buskins. She stood submissively, waiting for them
to speak.
“What does that girl want?” Kass murmured aside.
"My stars, she can’t be a labor Mug!”
"Come here, girl!” Lenta rumbled kindly. "What
can we do for you ?”
The girl came forward hesitatingly. Her voice was
THE METAL MOON
261
«oft, lacking the brassy assurance of other Jovian
women;
“I was sent here, masters, to guide you through hell.”
Immediately after this startling statement her face
turned a brilliant red, then a deathly white. She half
turned as if to flee, but, as if realizing the uselessness
of flight, she faced them again, defiantly ;
"I don’t care what happens to me!" she declared des-
perately. “I’ve told the truth at least once. Jovians call
this place The Pleasure Bubble, but they don’t have to
live in the black half. Now tell them what I have said.”
"We will not tell anyone what you said, child," Lents
rumbled comfortingly. “But tell us. You don’t look
like the Mugs we’ve seen so far — nor like the poor fel-
low we saw put through the airlock. They seemed —
a different race. But you — ^why — on Earth we could
hardly tell you from any other kid of your age.”
A flash of spirit illuminated the girl’s tragic, imma-
ture face.
"They call us a different race!” she exclaimed. “True
— but not an inferior race ! They are the inferior race,
though the stronger. They depend on our knowledge,
our labor, to livel My father told me sol”
K ASS, who had been studying her silently, asked,
“Your father?”
“Yes. The technic in charge of the machinery below.
He was ordered to escort you around. But his scars
from the rays make it hard for him to breathe today.
He is in his bunk. So he sent me in his place.”
Sine wondered if life under such unnatural and de-
structive conditions would some day reduce this grace-
ful girl to a horrible parody of humanity. He asked;
“Do you work below?”
Her clear gray eyes fell on him.
“No. I was selected by the Committee to work in the
Baths when I am sixteen. I am fifteen now.”
“Holy twisted nebulae!” Sine swore under his breath.
“The kid doesn’t know what her work in the Baths is
going to be! So the Committee selected her for the
Baths!” He felt suddenly a violent dislike for the
very rich Jovians, a feeling of fraternity with the
Mugs.
“We will be very glad to have you guide us,” he said
formally. “What is your name?”
“Proserpina. My father said it is fitting for one who
lives where we do.”
Strange anachronism! That name from the mythol-
ogy of Earth’s youth. Like that goddess of the under-
world from misty antiquity, she led them down, down,
until it seemed they must be near the bottom of the
black hemisphere. It was a world of dim distances,
of shadows, of pipes and girders, or grisly abysses from
which came mysterious sounds; of locked chambers in
which ghastly fires flared.
Now and then they met the inhabitants of the place;
misshapen Robolds going about unknown tasks. They
stumbled suddenly out of unnoticed passages, carry-
ing burdens, grotesque, apelike, weary. Most of them
were hideously deformed.
Several times, when their journey led them into a
certain part of the hemisphere where they felt strange
tingling of their nerves, the girl led them away.
“We must not go there,” she told them. “The inte-
grators are there. There my father received the scars
of his chest that keep him from breathing. Most of
those who are blind worked there.”
’The Earthmen had already heard hints of the atomic
integrators from which the Jovians obtained endless
power. They had no desire to get too near those sear-
ing by-products of power.
“Do you mean to say,” Lents asked, puffing a little
from their exertions, "that people down here live here
all their lives?”
“I will show you our home,” Proserpina said simply.
They came to it presently. A niche, a metal-lac^
nook, deep in the hull. Gigantic girders formed one
side of it. On the other side enormous air conduits.
It was clean, bare, not as depressing as they had ex-
pected. It was more like a gallery, long and narrow,
sparsely furnished.
Something rolled out of a bunk at the farther end.
Something like a great spider. A man, stooped over,
his once powerful body doubled, so that his knuckles
almost dragged on the floor-plates. He came toward
them, fierce gray eyes looking out at them under bushy
brows. So formidable that Sine’s muscles tensed.
“Are these the visitors, Proserpina?” His voice was
husky, as though his constricted chest with difilculty
performed its function. He looked at them intensely.
“They tell me you are from Earth. Are you with
us or against us?”
“Father, be careful!” She put her hand over his
mouth, to be shaken off impatiently. But the girl’s
warning had taken effect. The man — it was impossible
to tell if he were old or young — looked at them brood-
ingly.
“My mother died here,” Proserpina said. “And I am
afraid he will. His mind is not as clear — ”
Lents, distressed to the bottom of his generous soul,
helped the victim of the Jovian pleasure moon back to
his bunk. “This girl,” he muttered to Kass, "can’t we
get her out of here?”
He had not meant for her to hear, but her quick ears
caught his words, and a ray of hope illuminated her
features. She was standing beside Sine, and her thin
fingers gripped his hard bronzed arm;
“Oh, could you take me away? I will be your slave!”
Sine gently disengaged her fingers. He was strangely
embarrassed.
“I’d like to. But I’m a bachelor man. No place for
you, you know.”
She did not persist. No doubt sho realized that she
could not leave that gaunt parody of a man who was
her father.
When they bid farewell to Proserpina they were
steeped in profound depression. Alone in their room,
they talked over what they had seen, but they could
think of no way to save Proserpina from her fate.
They were still discussing their visit when the manager
of this satellite of delights called on them and informed
them that Governor Nikkia of Jupiter awaited them in
the capital city, Rubio. A space ferry was even then
clamped to the locks to take them to the mother planet.
CHAPTER III
The Coming of the Teardrops
G overnor Nlldda was like the majority of the
First Race. Although he was not large of stat-
ure, his powerful muscles bulged impressively
under his clothing. The two relatively slender Earth-
men, naked save for their trunks, looked almost ridic-
ulously puny. Lents’ portly figure was more impres-
sive, but the big scientist had all he could do to carry
his weight, so uncomfortably augmented by Jupiter’s
great mass. The unaccustomed thickness of the at-
mosphere, too, made the Earthmen uncomfortable. The
heat was excessive, for although the outer cloud masses
had been determined by photometric telescopic exami-
nation to be near the freezing point of hydrogen, Jupi-
ter’s enormous store of internal heat m^e its surface
252
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
temperature average around 100 degrees Fahrenheit.
The humidity was high, and the explorers from Earth
were distressed. *
Nikkia was a good host, however. He ordered out
one of the government cars, luxurious conveyances sup-
ported by gravity repulsion buttons, and personally ac-
companied his guests on a tour of inspection through
the murky fog. They rode interminably over wet,
domed roofs, down through gloomy arcades. Thunder
rumbled incessantly, and occasionally there came a lurid
glow of lightning.
For a city of Rubio’s extent, they saw very few peo-
ple. Occasionally they saw the erect, confident figure
of a member of the First Race, tending some mighty
engine whose purpose they could only guess. The in-
habitants preferred to stay indoors, if they could not
afford to dally in The Pleasure Bubble.
Nikkia listened with interest to the voyagers’ ac-
count of their journey through space. But he did not
respond with much enthusiasm to the suggestion that
interplanetary commerce be resumed.
"We are comforable,” he said good-naturedly. "Be-
sides, I’m not sure that the Mugs could build ships
suitable for such long trips. They’re getting lazier
every day!’’ He shook his head regretfully.
"What do you expect?’’ Sine blurted. "You treat
them like slaves, ruin their lives, and then you’re sur-
prised because they lack ambition!’’
Nikkia looked at him in mild astonishment. "But
they have to be kept in their place! If we gave them
free hand they’d soon run us out. Why, not fifty years
ago ’’
He told again of that uprising that had resulted in
the breaking of the Second Race’s pretension. "We
have to control ’em,’’ he ended smugly.
The Earthmen were baffled by the bland indifference
of the Jovians to their mother planet. They met many
of the First Race in the next few days, but none seemed
interested but the so-called Mugs, the Second Race, and
their interest was wistful akin to nostalgia.
But the three scientists were to learn that the First
Race were good fighting men, regardless of their short-
comings in other lines.
» * *
The glowing “teardrops” appeared a little over a
week later. They were so called because of their shape,
but the Jovians knew as little about their nature as
did their guests. They appeared early one murky morn-
ing, as Kass, Sine and Lents sat at breakfast with Gov-
ernor Nikkia. The servants, comely, characterless spe-
cimens of the Second Race who held themselves snob-
bishly above their fellows, came panic-stricken;
"Your Supremacy!” called one, making a low obei-
sance. “There are strange lights hanging over the pal-
ace!”
Nikkia brushed the slight fellow aside, dashed up a
stairway to a terrace on the roof, closely followed by
his guests. In a few moments they were all soaked by
the warm downpour as they stood on the terrace, like
an island in a sea of brown fog.
There were three of them, roughly egg-shaped, but
with an elongated tail. More like tadpoles, save that
the tail was rigid and emitted a fiery streak. Obviously
they were propelled by a new adaptation of the old
rocket principle. They swam back and forth slowly,
as if questing for something, leisurely selecting their
victims. The strangest thing about them, however,
was the light. A brilliant red, almost pink, like the
glow of a neon tube, it penetrated the fog. Its pulsa-
tions even penetrated brain and body, so that the watch-
ers became unpleasantly conscious of it.
Nikkia, watching tensely, turned suddenly on his
guests ;
“Damned funny ! Barely you show up, and now this !
I don’t like it. Are they from the Earth?”
Lents swelled in slow and ponderous anger.
"Do you think, sir, that we are of the sort to abuse
your hospitality by spying on you? We don’t know
any more about those things than you do!”
"Damned funny!” Nikkia repeated to himself. "Won-
der if there’s any of them left?”
"Your Supremacy!” a servant interrupted. "Call
from the war office!” He was carrying a drum-like
contrivance, carried on a stand, and set it down in
front of the governor,
"Well?” Nikkia snapped impatiently.
The screen which formed the drumhead glowed into
life. A Jovian officer, looking exceedingly efficient and
warlike in his armor uniform, stood at salute, which
Nikkia returned impatiently.
“Who are those flyers, Sonta?” the governor snapped.
"I don’t know. Your Supremacy,” the officer growled.
"They fail to answer our challenge, and none of the
men have seen anything like them.”
“Then why don’t you turn the heat on them?”
"We have. Our heat-rays have no effect on them.
That pinkish light is a reflector wave of some sort.
Several of our beam projectors were burnt up by the
kick-back.”
“Ram ’em then! Ram ’em! Sacred Ganymede! Is
our Defense Service degenerating into a crew of
Mugs?”
T he officer’s image on the screen was seen to flush,
to draw itself up resentfully.
“We have sent ships up to ram them. Your Suprem-
acy. Three of them have been destroyed.”
“I was watching. I saw nothing.”
“The visibility is worse than usual. They are half
a mile high. Our own ships are invisible at a hundred
yards. It’s that cursed light.”
Nikkia shut him off peremptorily.
“Never mind the conversation, Sonta. Get out ev-
ery available defense craft. Box those teardrops. Ram
them. Destroy them— I don’t care how!”
The screen was suddenly dark, and Nikkia gazed
angrily up at the mysterious glowing craft overhead.
So far they had done no damage except to the city’s
fighting ships.
“Listen!” Sine exclaimed. His body glistened like
wet bronze as he stood in the half darkness and strained
to catch some sound over the steady patter of rain.
“Lents, quit puffing!”
From high overhead, some sounds were coming to
them. A steady, droning rush, like the sustained ex-
haust of rockets. That must be from the visitors, for
the official ships were equipped with the gravity but-
tons. Now and again one of the glowing teardrops
would be thrown violently from its course, evidently the
effect of impingement of the gravity beam. But not
one was disabled. The defense ships were not faring
so well. Every little while there would be a fog-muffled
crash as one of them crashed, throwing a stone roof
into the street. But none fell near the governor’s
palace.
It was uncanny. No sound save that low, sibilant
roar, and an occasional crash out there somewhere in
the darkness. The mysterious attacking ships so
plainly visible and so immune, and the defensive fight-
ing craft, flying in silence and invisibility — crashing
anonymously.
Nikkia had dropped his air of assurance and calm
THE METAL MOON
253
superiority. He was frankly worried, and still a little
suspicious of his guests. This attack — it did seem
rather a coincidence. What would Sonta have to re-
port now?
He twisted a dial on the side of the communication
drum. A junior officer appeared on the screen.
“What the devil?” the governor exploded. "Where
is Sonta? I’ll have him broken for thisl Lieutenant,
call Colonel Sonta at once!”
"Your Supremacy,” the lieutenant said respectfully,
"Colonel Sonta went up in one of the guard ships, and
it has been reported crashed south of the catalyst
plants.”
For a second Nikkia stared at the screen, then
snapped the switch wordlessly.
The attackers seemed to have broken down the cap-
ital’s defenses. Here and there, through the thick,
greasy fog, a lurid red glow would take life. That was
the fog-diffused reflection of a heat-beam, probing
the sky for the "teardrops.” After a little while the
glow would flare up and as suddenly die down, followed
by utter blackness. Another heat-beam out of com-
mission.
Nikkia was frantically polling all of the city’s de-
fense commanders. They reported failure with monoto-
nous regularity. The electronic barrage wall around
the city had been passed easily — ^the equipment wrecked.
A proton bombardment had yielded exactly nothing —
He snapped the switch, peered eagerly at the mist cur-
tain overhead — there was a series of heavy concus-
sions. The glowing visitors were being bombarded
from above. The screen glowed again . . .
“. . . but the bombs are all detonated long before
they get in effective range of . . .”
Close by a vague shape — a darker shadow in the
muggy air, suddenly materialized. It was falling
swiftly — a familiar cylindrical shape with rounded ends
— one of the Jovian guard ships. It struck scarcely
a hundred yards from the palace — struck with a jarring
burst of sound like rending metal. Then utter silence
again, and darkness. No cry of wounded man. No man
could survive that fall and live.
"Some kind of emanation — shields them from all
known attack — ” Nikkia swore monotonously and regu-
larly.
The glowing ships now settled down to the real pur-
pose of their attack. They began to course back and
forth across the city, methodically. Like burning
meteors they disappeared over the horizon, to the city’s
farthest suburbs, back again, as if over a measured
and marked course.
And like burning, melting meteorites, they shed trails
of sparks, blazing liquid. Wherever these fiery drops
landed there ensued immediately a dry crackling, fol-
lowed by the rattle of falling masonry. As none of
the buildings were inflammable, there was no danger
of fire. But wherever this incendiary trail fell, stone
cracked and crumbled.
“They are destroying us! Forty million people live
here in Rubio. They will kill us all, women and chil-
dren too!”
“Who are they?” Sine asked suddenly.
N ikkia looked at him bleakly. "Who? Why, the
Mugs, of course! Those we banished. Those we
thought we wiped out.”
“Oh, yeh.” Sine’s intonation was very dry. “They’re
giving you a dose of your own medicine.”
Nikkia did not reply. As if he apprehended, too
late, that his statement might have sounded like a
plea for help, he shrugged his massive shoulders with
elaborate indifference, saying;
"I and my wives are not afraid to die!”
The Earthmen could no longer watch this ruthless
destruction, however, regardless of the provocation.
"You say that pink light is a protection against
every known mode of attack?” Sine asked, turning
sharply to the governor.
“Yes. And that’s sufficient, isn’t it?”
“Is it proof against this?” Sine jerked the little
tube out of its clip, directed it against a stone parapet
that loomed grotesquely through the fog. A brilliant
white beam leaped forth, cutting the fog like a bar
of platinum. Then there was darkness, and the gov-
ernor, examining the parapet, noted with growing hope
that a stone pillar, a foot in diameter, had been cut
off smoothly, cleanly.
“The disintegrating ray!” he murmured. “I have
read of that, in fiction. But here! Here it is!”
Suddenly he was all energy.
“Will you use this weapon against our enemies? I
assure you that you will be well rewarded. As much
eka-iodine as your ship will carry! My own ship is
here, in the courtyard. It is swift, and powerful. You
have already learned the controls. Take it. Bring
down those murderers!”
The fiery meteor was coming toward them again,
planting a swath of death a hundred yards wide. There
was really only one answer possible. The terrestrial
scientists, having come on a mission of peace and dis-
covery, stepped forward in unison.
“Give me the activator key!” Sine said crisply.
“Lents, will you see that the port gaskets are loose?
Kass, I’d like to have you take the controls.”
“Right! Right!” They ran past the governor of
the greatest planet in the solar system, ignoring him,
down the broad stairs, through halls of weighty mag-
nificence, and into the rain-sluiced courtyard.
The governor’s ship was waiting there. Not very
large, but fine. Its polished metal gleamed richly.
“Quick, inside!” Sine threw open the manport
valves. They were inside. The gravity buttons glowed
with their peculiarly material lavender light, and the
ship rose vertically with swift acceleration.
From the sky the death trails left by the invaders
were clearly visible through the murk which obscured
everything else — a pink, pulsating light. And the three
glowing vessels were coming toward them.
“Get above them, Kass!” Sine commanded. “When
they pass under I’ll let them have it.”
Closer and closer they came, those blobs of light.
The Earthmen could see nothing but the light — get
no hint of their construction. But that there were
men inside they never doubted. The glowing ships
seemed to swell, to expand monstrously, and their throb-
bing emanations became more furious. They seemed
to hesitate as they were about to pass beneath.
“They see us?” Lents rumbled, pulling at his toga
nervously. The cloth was soaked, clinging to his fat
body.
“Close enough!” Sine decided, leaning out of a port,
disintegrator ray tube in his hand.
At that instant the strange pink light seemed to en-
compass the whole planet. They were bathed in it.
The fog was a sea of baleful pink. Sine stiffened
into impotent rigidity. The ray tube fell from his
numbed fingers. He felt himself floating, weightless,
in a sea of red that smothered him deliciously. And
swiftly even that consciousness was succeeded by black
oblivion.
254
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
CHAPTER IV
The Monstrosities
E’S COMING out of it. Hand me the water,
Lents.”
Sine awoke to see Kass bending over him. He
felt weak and languid, and the memory of recent events
was returning only slowly. He looked around, saw
that he was lying in a chamber about fifteen feet
square, evidently hewn out of solid rock.
“Are you all right, Sine? Answer me, boy!” Kass’
bald head gleamed in the yellowish light of a single
emanation tablet on the ceiling.
“I’m all right. Where are we?”
“Under the sea. Some hidden city of the Second
Race — those that were banished. We are prisoners,
but honored prisoners, it seems.”
Sine passed his hand over his eyes.
“How did we get here?”
“Some kind of emanation of theirs — the brightening
of that light, I guess. It had a paralyzing effect. I
know I froze where I stood, unable to move a step.
And I was protected by the hull. Same with Lents.
But you had your head out of the port — caught the
full effect. It laid you out cold.”
“They boarded us then,” the fat man supplied.
“As easy as that! Simply boarded us, herded me
and Lents into their own ship, which is just as suitable
for navigating in water as in air. As for you, they
had to carry you.”
“Better tell him what to expect,” Lents suggested.
Kass explained, with considerable scientific interest:
“The First Race was not so far wrong in calling
them ‘terrible people,’ They are, a race of monstros-
ities. Men with four or six arms, men with hair like
fur all over their bodies. With heads ten times too
large. With boneless tentacles instead of limbs. With
scales instead of skin. Quite horrible. And yet, most
of them are highly intelligent, with normal human emo-
tions, and painfully conscious of their deformities.”
“I don’t quite understand.” Sine was flexing his
muscles, sitting up with the support of one elbow. He
saw he was lying on a pallet of dried sea weed. “What
caused these abnormalities?”
"Well, you know — ” Lents was speaking judiciously.
“You know all about the mutations produced by X-rays
in the biological laboratories?”
“Of course!” For approximately a million years these
actions of X-rays had been understood — their ability
to bring about extraordinary mutations in the life-
germ, whether animal or vegetable — ^the acceleration of
natural evolution a milHonfold. “But you don’t mean
to say the First Race deliberately brought about these
mutations in the Mugs?”
“Not deliberately. But they permitted it with utter
callousness. You know those hydrogen integrators we
saw at a distance in the dark half of The Bubble. Those
things are the source of moat of the power used by
the Jovians. But the generators have a mighty dan-
gerous by-product — the cosmic ray series, for instance,
a particularly destructive band below the X-ray spec-
trum too.”
Sine nodded comprehension, his eyes hardening as
he thought of the grotesque, distorted wreck of hu-
manity who was Proserpina’s father. A mere whim of
fortune that he had not been condemned to that hell
before she was born, or she might have been one of
those unfortunate mutations —
Might yet become one! Not only could the rays de-
form the offspring. They could distort the full-grown,
normal body. Sine felt increasingly dismayed as he
thought of this immature, quiet-eyed girl, this waif of
an alien world. He experienced a recurrence of the in-
dignation he had previously felt. This selfish, superior
First Race! Condemning the weaker people to torture
and death so they could enjoy a little paradise! The
Pleasure Bubble they called it. Sphere of the Damned
was better ! For the unfortunate consigned to the dark
hemisphere was condemned to an inferno that sur-
passed the Ancient’s most perfervid imagination.
“I wish we could save Proserpina!”
The words were out before Sine knew it. Kass
stopped in the middle of a sentence and lifted a quiz-
zical eyebrow.
“Oh, get the romantic ideas out of your heads!” Sine
snapped, “You know she’s just a kid. I couldn’t take
care of her if we did take her back to Earth. But
I’d like to take her out of The Bubble 1”
Lents pulled at his toga thoughtfully. It was dirty,
still wet, and smelled not too pleasantly.
“I could take care of her,” he said slowly, and his
deep bass voice was a little wistful. “My wife would
be glad — we’re getting old, and no children — ”
“We-ell,” Kass submitted practically. “I’d like to
take her away, and her poor old daddy too — or is he
old? But what’s the use of discussing all that? Here
we are prisoners, and she’s a prisoner of the First
Race, and we shall never see her again. Or the good
old Earth either,” he added sadly.
A man entered the room. He looked more like a
normal man than might have been expected — only his
exaggerated dish-face, his bulbous forehead proclaim-
ing him just another victim of the First Race’s indus-
tries. Or his shrill, treble voice as he announced:
“Gentlemen of Earth, the Manager and his council
expect you in the office. Follow me.” He turned, waited
for them to come.
The Manager’s messenger led them up a long, as-
cending tunnel meagerly lighted at intervals by small
emanation tablets. After they had gone i>erhap3 a
hundred yards the hewn rock gave way to what was
evidently a kind of concrete.
“This part of their city is built above the ocean
floor,” Kass remarked quietly. “They brought us in
through airlocks. Passages lead to caves along the
shore where the original refugees holed up. These are
mostly their children, so marked and deformed even in
embryo.”
Their dish-faced guide now stepped aside as they en-
tered a spacious chamber with a domed ceiling. Here
and there it was wet. No doubt above there was the
sea. Lents made a rapid mental calculation, rumbled
into Sine’s ear:
"Can’t be so deep. Not over a hundred feet; maybe
less. Otherwise those arches couldn’t carry the
weight.”
A HUSH fell upon the room. The leader of this
strange people — the one they called The Manager,
was rising from his seat back of a desk. His head
was very large, his eyes large, liquid and expressive.
A total lack of eyebrows, of hair on his head, gave a
mixture of the comical and the obscene to his appear-
ance. But the respect with which his counselors, ranged
on either side of him, regarded him, ignored his ap-
pearance. They were all, without exception, victims
of the strange and terrible mutations of type induced
by the First Race’s callous disregard to the dangers
of the rays. All wore loose garments of drab material
which concealed their deformities to some extent.
The Manager’s large, intense eyes fastened on the
Earthmen, and he addressed them:
“Men of Earth: We have captured you in battle, but
THE METAL MOON
266
we would be friends with the Old World. Why did
you try to fight us?’'
"You were murdering helpless victims,” Sine said
shortly. "It was not our fight, but we could not stand
by and permit such a thing.”
Something like amusement flashed up in The Man-
ager’s enormous eyes, so old, weary and wise.
"So you could not bear to think of an easy death for
those of the First Race? What think you of their
treatment of us?” He raised a scrawny arm — so thin
it suggested a skeleton. "Hunted like beasts — impris-
oned and tortured! Are we not human?”
"You see,” Kass interposed diplomatically — "we were
their guests. And in a way thei'r quarrel . . .”
The Manager cut him short peremptorily:
"You were their guests! You lolled with them in
The Pleasure Bubble, in the beautiful sun! The sun
that most of us have never seen! And down in the
dark half-human beings like yourselves — toiled and
slaved at those devilish integrators to keep the machin-
ery of pleasure going.
"You were the guests in the Governor's palace — in
the magnificent city of Rubio, though to you it may
seem dismal. But did you think of the poor slaves,
deep underground, in the slimy sewers, in the uranium
pits, in the power plants? You basked in luxury with
the First Race, and their fight was your fight — ^their
enemies . . .”
He was working himself into a fury, evidently for-
getting the original purpose of this conference with
the prisoners. But one of the counselors now ap-
proached him, bowed respectfully so that his scaly face
was hidden. The Manager cut short his tirade.
"What is it, Gnom?”
"Isn’t The Manager digressing?” Gnom asked in a
hollow voice. "These men of Earth are now our guests.
They come at an opportune time — when we shall reap
the fruits of our long planning. If we wrest power
from the First Race, shall we not need the friendship
of the Mother Planet ? Let them, then, carry our story
to Earth, if it be that we may need their help.”
The Manager stood in thought. At last, coming to
a decision, he asked sharply:
"With whom do you stand, men of Earth? With us
or our oppressors?”
Kass and Lents looked at one another blankly. They
started as Sine spoke up sonorously, beside them:
"Officially, we are supposed to be neutral. But if
you attack The Bubble and rescue the poor devils in
the dark hemisphere I’ll help!”
But .The Manager shook his enormous head slightly.
"That we can not do. That satellite is too far out
in space. There Is no concealment, and we can not
yet fight their patrol ships in space.”
"Listen!” Sine persisted. "There is a man there I
know. He’s about ready to die, unless he gets away.
And he has a girl, a kid of fourteen or fifteen. The
rays haven’t made a freak out of her yet. I want to
save her. Give me a ship and I’ll take her out my-
self!”
"That we can not do. Individuals do not count.
One, or a hundred, may die. We can not endanger
our plan.”
The counselors had drawn a little away from the
Earthmen, unconsciously symbolizing their support to
The Manager. Again he raised his bony arm.
"Up above there our ships are destroying every city
of the First Race on the planet. Our power-beams
for the glowing ships are encircling Jupiter in a net-
work of red and death — death to the oppressors! The
Pleasure Bubble’s turn will come. And when it is
dashed down, master and slave must die together. To
save the slaves might let some of the masters escape.”
“Gentlemen!” Kass was trying to smooth over the
situation, "We have been sent here on a voyage of
discovery, not of war. We regret your troubles here
— but we can take no part in them. Our attitude is
friendly to . . .”
“No! Damned if I will!” Sine shouldered his iron-
hard body through the close-packed counselors, so that
he stood directly before The Manager, who did not
shrink from the formidable young man. "If you mur-
der those poor Mugs in the black hemisphere. I’m your
enemy from now on!”
"And I!” The words boomed and reverberated in
the vaulted chambe,r, and Lents moved his bulky body
beside Sine.
"And I tool” Kass’ naked, skinny torso glistened
with sweat. "The First Race may be murderers, but
they’re magnificent murderers. They wouldn’t forget
their friends!”
The Manager’s large, liquid eyes seemed suddenly
filmed over. He jerked his enormous head sharply,
snapped :
"We waste time. Put these meddlers out through
the locks, that they may feed the fish.”
UT Gnom again interposed.
"If The Manager will permit — there is much water
on Earth. They may know how to swim — might go
to the top and escape — ”
"True, Gnom. I have a truly great brain, as all the
oppressed admit, but details escape me. Call one of
the watch, put them to death first.”
Gnom turned, looked into one of the larger passages
that centered on that room. He turned his blank,
scaly face.
"The watch is not here!”
"Perhaps he was called. See!”
But before Gnom could execute the order a commo-
tion arose in the passage. A voice called from outside :
"Officer of the hour prays audience with The Man-
ager.”
"Enter.”
An officer with an extreme hunchback dashed in,
bowed low before The Manager.
"It is the end!” he gasped. "They watched our
glowing ships plunge under the water, and they are
setting bombing rockets for this area. The first rang-
ing shots have already been fired. Listen!”
After a few moments there came a dull thud, as
though a blow had been struck against the ceiling. A
pendent drop of water fell. The Manager’s hairless
face became bleak.
"I made great plans, great inventions — forgot a
simple detail!” He slumped as he stood, a mixture of
the absurd and the tragic. The mutation that had made
a brilliant mind had nevertheless left it incomplete,
and none had realized it until in this extremity. Again
came that dull shock, and this time it seem^ a little
stronger.
The Manager shook off his apathy. His great eyes
burned with livid fire, as he called:
"Officer of the watch. Take these prisoners to the
locks. Kill them and put them out.”
“I obeyl” The officer, squat, with enormous torso,
pointed a small wand, pointed with a tiny spot of that
peculiar pulsating pink light, threateningly. Stolidly he
herded them through a broad corridor. Now and then
they passed inhabitants of this submarine city, night-
marish, pitiable creatures, now disturbed, dreading
256 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
death. Sine wondered vaguely that they should cling
to such an unhappy existence.
He was recalled to their own predicameijt when a
metal gate, closed by a screw-wheel, loomed up in the
poor light. The inside lock! The guard motioned them
ahead, stood between them and the passage. He fum-
bled at his belt, ignoring the dull hammerblows of ex-
plosions transmitted by the water. He seized Kass by
the throat, prepared to plunge the knife into his body.
Sine leaped past, crooked his arm around the man’s
thick neck, attempted to break his neck. But a giant
arm threw him oif easily. He fell to the floor. Like an
echo came the concussion of another explosion.
The guard, without trace of ill-humor, turned his
attention to Sine. He pointed the little wand at him,
and the light glowed brighter. Sine felt again that
torturing paralysis. His senses were leaving him. The
pink light was throbbing, expanding . . .
He wondered why the stones of the passage should
be pushing in, spurting water. The pink light faded.
Tepid water struck him, stinging like needles. There
was a roaring, blackness. A fat arm hooked around
his waist — Lents’, no doubt. He felt himself borne along
in a swirl of water, strangling, fighting blindly. There
was another terrific explosion shock, an interminable
climbing struggle. Then his head broke water and he
breathed air again. Lents came up beside him, puffing
and blowing, and after a long wait — so long that they
despaired, Kass came weakly to the surface.
CHAPTEE V
The Struggle for Freedom
T hey were afloat, and comparatively safe from the
rockets which shrieked out of the leaden sky and
threw spectral waterspouts up into the fog before
they exploded. Unless one exploded directly under
them, or very near, they would be safe — for the time
being.
“Which way is shore?” Lents puffed.
“Kockets seem to come from that way,” Sine an-
swered, flipping his hand. “Swim that way. Fish prob-
ably lost appetites, so won’t bother us.”
The bombardment had indeed frightened away the
monsters of the deep, and even the dead in the ruined
submarine city would rest in peace for a while. But
the Earthmen, after several hours of swimming,, doubt-
ed that this was more than a postponement of death.
The long greasy swells were rising, presaging another
of Jupiter’s unimaginably violent storms.
“I see a light!” Sine strained his eyes to get an-
other glimpse of it through the brown fog. “There it
is again.” Something was moving slowly through the
air a short distance over the water, following the course
of the rockets, which had ceased coming. A powerful
searchlight was cutting through the murk. A war
party of the First Kace, looking for wreckage.
In their methodical search they soon found the
swimming men, and they were helped into the chief’s
cabin. Sine, looking up with half-blinded eyes, saw
Governor Nikkia sitting in his chair, looking at him
coldly.
“So!” the governor bit off his words. “The traitors
are fished out.” His arrogant, handsome face was
vindictive, uncompromising. “We forgot that the abor-
igines of Earth would naturally sympathize with their
equals, the Mugs! That was nicely timed, your ‘visit.’
How long have you been in communication with the
rebels?”
The Earthmen, weak and exhausted by their long
exposure, resisted their desire to lie down on the floor.
They stood before the governor, hemmed in bv hostile
fighting men, and tried to maintain the traditions and
dignity of their planet.
“We were not in communication with your slaves,”
Sine declared. “You should know that. Your radio
monitors would have picked up any messages, and your
own patrol ships picked us up when we were far out
in space. Our mission is one of peace. As for your
quarrels, they do not concern us. We are strictly neu-
tral.”
Nikkia laughed, a short, clipped bark in which there
was little amusement.
“Well, your guilt is a matter of small moment any-
way. We have paid the Mugs for the damage they did,
and they will not have another chance. And if they
had an idea of getting help from Earth, you shall be
an object lesson on the uselessness of such hopes.”
“Meaning?” But Sine and his companions knew that
the meaning must be evil.
“Meaning,” Nikkia snapped, “that from now on you
three are Mugs, no better and no worse than the Jovian
Mugs. Except that I shall instruct the labor office to
put you to work at one of the power integrators — ^per-
haps in The Bubble. We don’t want to waste you”
he added with grim humor — “and the gravity here on
Jupiter might reduce your life of usefulness.”
The governor turned his back in dismissal, and the
prisoners were hustled into a dark, extremely hot stor-
age hold. Here they lay down amid an untidy collec-
tion of miscellaneous gear, thick with dust. They rested
gratefully until some of their strength should return
to them.
When they awoke from their sleep of exhaustion they
were aware that the ship had landed, and a few minutes
later the door of their prison was opened and an officer,
heat pistol trained on them, commanded the prisoners
to get into another ship for transfer to the metal and
crystal satellite where they were condemned to drag
out the rest of their lives as slaves.
The second coming of the Earthmen to The Bubble
was in marked contrast to their first. Instead of the
large, commodious lock in the upper hemisphere, they
entered this time through a drab, dull orifice in the
black half of the sphere. The patrol ship which brought
them was contacted without ceremony. They were
thrust though with curt orders to ask somebody for
the Mug superintendent’s office. Then the valve closed
behind them. There was a grating sound as it was
locked from the outside, and then silence. The ship
was gone. They were marooned in the gloom, the gris-
ly domain of the rays and the Mugs. Sentenced for
life, with their only companions, a few broken, despair-
ing men.
The corridor in which they found themselves sloped
gently downward, and artificial gravity made it possible
to walk naturally. Sine taking the lead, they passed
into the depths. Everywhere were monstrous shadows,
with occasional stabbing eerie beams of light. But it
seemed that an ominous hush hung over this metal-
interlaced gulf. Here there was no sense of motion —
no sense of bubble-like lightness. It was like a descent
into the nether regions of the ancient — into an inferno.
But of the denizens of this dismal place there was no
trace.
“Let’s go to Proserpina’s home,” Sine suggested.
“I’m anxious to see if she’s still all right. And the old
man too.”
Accordingly they watched for the numbered corri-
dor, and after some fruitless wandering, came again
to the deep crack that was the only home this timid
girl knew. She started up in terror as the Earthmen
came into view. Not unnaturally, for they were all
THE METAL MOON
267
bristly with unshaven beards and grimy with the dust
they had collected when prisoners in the Jovian ship’s
hold.
But after her, first reaction of terror she gave a
glad cry, and running up to Sine, threw her thin arms
around his muscular neck.
“Now listen, kid!” The young scientist began with
unwonted embarrassment. But the girl clung to him,
and he could not quite bring himself to tear her arms
away. She released him herself, in a few moments, be-
came suddenly shy.
Lents laughed with genuine amusement.
“Don’t be silly. Sine. She’s just glad to see us
again. Poor kid was lonesome. Come here, Prosie.”
S HE went to him, gravely embraced him; then Kass.
They noticed she was trembling.
“What’s the matter?” Kass asked. “You act as if
you’re glad to see us. but wished we hadn’t come.”
“Why are you here?” she asked with a troubled
frown.
The Earthmen told her of what had transpired — ^that
they were now condemned for life to serve in the dark
hemisphere. As they spoke her fears seemed to vanish.
She became radiant with delight.
“Then you have come at the right time!” she cried.
“Our slavery is at an end, and you shall pilot us back
to the Mother planet!”
“You’re not crazy, are you kid?” Sine asked, lifting
her little pointed chin with his hand.
“No!” she laughed delightfully. "Not crazy!” And
she would have embraced Sine again. "My father has
been building a ship for the past two years, hoping to
escape to Ganymede, or some other moon of Jupiter.
But now we shall go to Earth!” She clapped her hands
excitedly.
“Listen! Let’s get this straight,” Lents demanded.
“You say your dad has built a ship. Where is it?”
“Way down in the bottom of the hemisphere. That’s
where all the Mugs are, working on it when they have
time. Dad’s chest feels better again.”
“They have built a ship, huh?” Sine was trying to
suppress the hope that flamed up madly. "How’ll they
get it out?”
“They’ve made an airlock, so that when we leave the
escaping air won’t give us away.”
It was one of these things that seem too good to be
true. But when the Earthmen accompanied the girl
to the secret workshop, directly next to the sphere’s
outer skin, they found she had spoken the truth in
every respect. The men there, nearly all pathetic
wrecks of the First Race’s system, were at first a little
doubtful about admitting the Earthmen, but one after
another they were won over to the idea of seeking sanc-
tuary on Earth rather than on some satellite of Jupiter
where they would never be entirely safe. Besides, the
Earthmen, though they had been stripped of all their
weapons, represented additional fighting strength.
They made their final preparations with mixed feel-
ings. Many of the Mugs had relatives on Jupiter,
though few had wives or children. Even women of
the Second Race had no desire to share the fate of a
man condemned to a lifetime in the black half of the
Bubble. Those few women who had accompanied their
men to the metal satellite would, of course, be taken
along, for the escape ship was commodious.
The next two weeks were filled with arduous labor,
but at last the ship was ready, and observation through
a small port which had been installed, showed that they
were about to enter the shadow of Jupiter. Under
cover of darkness they would leave the airlock. They
would accelerate past The Bubble. Centrifugal force
would send them away from Jupiter. At the same time
their velocity with relation to the sun would be dimin-
ished. Lenta plotted a long, graceful curve that would
bring them to Earth with the best possible speed.
Proserpina’s father lay on the floor, peering out
through the port.
“Remember, Jan," Lents reminded him, “as soon as
we cut the shadow, you give the order.” They were
all in the ship save the Earthmen and Jan, lying on
the floor like a great spider, with his tremendous chest
laboring painfully.
"In a moment now,” Jan said. "The sun is nearing
the limb.”
"Open! Open, you aberrated spores!” The com-
mand came but faintly through the inside valve of the
emergency airlock.
"They’ve found out!” Kass gasped, “Quick, never
mind the shadow!”
Jan had already leaped to the long cylindrical hull,
the product of endless labor and sacrifice.
“Inside!” Sine shouted, Kass and Sine made for the
ship’s manports. "I’ll take care of the thermite.”
In his hand he carried a small heat pistol that had
long ago been stolen and hidden by a Mug. Quickly
he made a circuit of the room, which was like an enor-
mous sheet-metal blister on the inside of the metal
satellite. After the thermite had cut out the ship free,
that blister would prevent the escape of air, saving the
lives of thousands of the First Race and also preventing
discovery of their escape for a time.
The thermite was piled generously in a ridge all the
way around. Sine leaped inside the first valve of the
manport, colliding with a soft body,
“Get inside, kid!” He leveled his pistol at the ther-
mite ridge where it was nearest to him. High time
too. The walls of the blister were radiating heat. The
fools were turning their infra-red beams on it!
"Lock!” Sine shouted, pressing the trigger and
jumping back.
Instantly the ship was surrounded by an oval of
brilliant orange and white fire. The valve clicked shut
in Sine’s face, and he dived through the second one
into the interior, tripping the lock of that one also.
Through the ports nothing was to be seen now save
fire. They were in an inferno of brilliant light and
heat. But through the glare and smoke Sine saw a
white-hot spot suddenly appear on the blister wall. The
Jovians were melting their way through! The metal
plates sagged like wet paper, dropped limply. Back
of the hole, luridly illuminated, stood the foremost of
a detachment of fighting men, eager to leap to the
fray, waiting only for the metal to cool a little.
But the thermite had been burning steadily, biting
through the tough skin of the metal moon. Just as
the fugitives were beginning to wonder whether they
would be incinerated in their self-made prison there
was a lurch. Through the hull of their own vessel
they could hear the tearing of metal as the weakened
plates were sheared away. They found themselves in
space, with the great ball of the Pleasure Bubble float-
ing away from them. Just outside of the gaping hole
in the sphere floated the bodies of twenty or thirty
men, blown out by the escaping air.
The air was escaping in a prodigious geyser; un-
impeded by an atmosphere, it spewed out, visible like
a cloud due to its moisture, smooth like an inflating
balloon without billows. The ball of vapor expanded
swiftly toward the gray vastness of Jupiter 100,000
miles below, enveloping the fugitive ship for a time,
then passing on, like an enormous milky white cloud.
258
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
falling swiftly until it was lost in the darkness, still peril was intensified by the imperatively felt need to
expanding.
Overhead The Bubble continued serenely on its
course, the sweeping curve of its crystal hemisphere
visible. But now the actinic lights that had served as
artificial suns were dark. The great man-made para-
dise was as cold and dead as the Earth’s moon. Death
stalked its pleasure palaces. Already up there the
pleasant rippling lakes must be skimmed over with ice,
the luxuriant vegetation stiff, crackling with frost.
Despite the selfishness, the cruelty, the utter cal-
lousness of the First Race, Sine felt a pang of regret
over the destruction of so much beauty.
A messenger from the astrogator’s cabin, a man
whose skin was seared and scorched so that it looked
like an alligator’s hide, touched Lents’ arm.
“Jan would like to have you verify the course.”
There was apprehension in the man’s voice. Member
of a race so long enslaved, restrained, he feared the
freedom of open space.
They swept slowly past The Bubble, gaining speed.
Suddenly there was a cry from the stern look-out:
“The ship’s heating. Stop it! Something’s wrong.”
Sine, rushing to answer the call, found that the ship
was indeed heating up. Shielded from the sun’s rays
as they were, this was inexplicable. And then he saw
the dull red pinpoint of light.
He had not seen it before, that patrol ship, clinging
like a leech to the airlock of the crystal hemisphere.
There had been men in there when the air escaped.
They had been saved from death by the closing of i;heir
automatic airlocks.
“Better get back into the shelter of The Bubble,”
he told Jan after a hurried trip to the astrogator’s
cabin. The spider man turned the vessel, and they
scurried back to shelter. Although the patrol ship
tried its gravity buttons on them, the Mugs had fully
equipped their own vessel with similar, and larger
buttons which were occasionally used in regulating the
metal satellite’s orbit. They could neutralize the other
vessel’s gravity force with ease.
“And yet,” Sine admitted to the serious little group
in the cabin, as they once more floated in space under
the immense sphere, “they seem to have us stymied.”
“Suppose they follow us around here?” Kass asked
somewhat nervously.
“I don’t think they can,” Sine said. “I noticed when
we came to The Bubble first, the ships are locked to the
gaskets from inside the sphere. The men inside the
ship can not unlock their ship unless they open the
emergency air curtain. If they did their air would
all escape through the sphere. They could do it, of
course, if they put on space suits. But that procedure
would take an hour, and in the mean time we could
get out of range of their heat rays. So we have them
stymied too. Except for one thing ”
“Of course,” Lents grunted. “We can’t get at them,
and they can’t gbt at us, but in a few hours we’ll be in
sunlight again, and some patrol will pick us up.”
The Mugs, watching fearfully from beyond the door-
way, turned aside. Were they, after a mere glimpse
of freedom, to be immediately returned to the bondage
which had become unbearable to them? Sine felt a
small, thin hand slip into his. He looked down into
the wistful face of Proserpina looking up at him with
hope, with confidence. All at once his shyness vanished
as he realized that Proserpina’s obvious adoration for
him was only the admiration of a child for a very big
and very wonderful brother. At the same time his
desire to do something to release them all from their
justify her confidence in him. An idea came.
“Jan,” he asked. “What is the energy output — ^the
total capacity — of our gravity buttons?”
Jan named an approximate figure in ergs.
“Lents, if you’ve ever calculated to a purpose, cal-
culate how! How much energy is represented by the
mass of that sphere at its orbital velocity?”
“I get you!” The fat scientist puffed out his cheeks
with excitement. “Have to estimate the mass first.”
He picked up a stylus from the astrogator’s table,
worked furiously on a tablet. Kass and Jan watched
apprehensively. The Pleasure Bubble, with its freight
of the dead, was hurrying remorselessly to its ren-
dezvous with the sunlight.
“Whoops!” Lents threw his tablet into the air in
extravagant triumph. “She’ll do!”
“Stations!” shouted Jan, in his curious strained
voice, and men rushed eagerly to their posts, still hazy
as to their object but cheered by the knowledge that
there was hope after all.
Then began one of the strangest duels in the history
of the solar system. Setting the nose of their vessel
against the gigantic metal satellite, they directed the
stern gravity buttons against a distant star, and ap-
plied full force to slow the sphere in its orbit.
The forces liberated were terrific. The sphere’s
tough skin, three inches thick, buckled and bent inward
until the ship was almost buried in a pit of its own
creation. Jan stood hunched over the activator lever
like a great spider, ready to throw it into neutral at
the first sign of an actual rupture, which would send
them crashing through the internal cells and girders of
the sphere.
“She’s folding up like a squeezed orange peeling!”
Kass muttered, running his hand over his bald head.
“Built to withstand internal pressure — nothing like
this,” Jan gasped. “Stout ship, this!” he added a mo-
ment later. “We thought we might have to ram our
way out.”
She was indeed a stout ship — this vessel of escape.
Though she shivered and groaned, she gave no indica-
tion of failure,
“Wonder if the others are pushing against us!” Kass
suddenly thought of another possibility,
“We — can — outpush ’em.” Jan gasped. “Got to sit
down. Here you take it!” Sine stepped into his place.
Vague shocks and noises were transmitted to them
through the hull. The huge sphere was collapsing pro-
gressively.
Lents came puffing from an observation port,
“She’s slowing!” he reported triumphantly. “Our
trajectory — give her a little more!”
The Joy Bubble was becoming more and more disc-
shaped, and it was slowly turning on a major axis as
the contending forces became uncentered.
“Flopping like a flapjack,” Lents commented as he
watched the shifting vista. A moment later; “It’s a
close squeeze. See there, past the horizon — a promi-
nence ?”
It was like a white plume, this jet of vapor thrown
far into space. Not uncommon in Jupiter’s turbulent
atmosphere. But it was bright, dazzling! That meant
they were not far from the sunlight!
“Pull away!” the fat mathematician shouted. “We
have to take a chance!” Instantly Sine reversed the
lever. Everyone grasped handholds as the ship backed
out of the pit. Now they could see the vast ruin they
had wrought. Sine gave her all the speed he dared, for
the sun, for home!”
The great ruin was slowly turning, and in a few
THE METAL MOON
259
minutes they saw again the darker shadow that was the
fighting patrol ship, still clamped to her side. At the
same instant the dull red pinpoint winked on. The
Jovians had sighted them again! In a few minutes
the hull was getting uncomfortably warm.
Lents laid down his pad.
“They will crash!” he declared. “But they have an
hour, the fools ! Instead of trying to burn us why don't
they get into their space suits and free themselves?”
Jan, resting on the bench, shook his shaggy head.
“They are a great people, stupid but great. They will
try to punish us till they die.”
The wreckage drifted closer and closer to Jupiter,
and still the red beam played steadily on the fleeing
prisoners’ ship. The distance had become so great
that it could only be seen through an old telescope that
THE
the prisoners had somehow procured. But the prison-
ers were gasping. Their hull was cherry-red on the
outside, and still heating. A few more minutes and
the heat would be unbearable.
“They are getting closer — closer — ^they are in the
sunlight. Now I can see better. I believe they will
skip by — no! They've dived into the vapor! They’re
out again. Skipped out like a flat stone on water.
Sinking again — almost over the horizon. Gone, I guess.
Whew, it’s hot!”
They were accelerating so fast that they had to turn
on the interior gravity buttons to equalize the pressure
on their bodies. Behind lay the vast, fog-bound planet
of Jupiter. Ahead was the beautiful sun. And some-
where beyond, and still invisible. Earth the lovely, the
green, the Mother of the human race!
END
»K=^IC
For the February 1932 Wonder Stories
we offer
«A CONQUEST OF TWO WORLDS"
By Edmond Hamilton
Just as the white man has nothing to be proud of in his early conquest of the Americas,
so the human race will hardly look back with pride if it manages to conquer the solar plan-
ets. The dominating force of greed is not expected to suddenly vanish when enterprising
men roam the interplanetary spaces.
In this powerful story, Mr. Hamilton shows some of the incredible adventures that will face
men when they attempt to conquer non-human civilizations on other planets.
««the challenge of the comet*
By Arthur K. Barnes
The readers who applauded so enthusiastically “Lord of the Lightning” by Mr. Barnes,
will welcome the continuation of the adventures of his scientist-reporter, Jack Harrow.
In this story we get a flashing insight into a recent disaster that horrified the whole world
a year ago and still mystifies it. Mr. Barnes tells us in his own realistic way some of the
extraordinary possibilities that may lie behind such disasters.
<<THE RADIUM WORLD**
By Frank K. KeUy
Mr. Kelly is one of the most promising of young writers that we have yet run across.
We are greatly pleased, therefore, to present this story of strange adventures on three plan-
ets. In an exciting, blood-chilling yet stimulating story of the struggle for untold riches, this
talented young writer outdoes by far all of his previous efforts.
He shows very vividly what some of the complications and dangers might be once inter-
planetary exploration sends earth-men to the farthest limits of the solar system.
««THE TIME STREAM**
By John Taine
ends in the February issue. Mr. Taine masterfully draws together all the mysterious threads
of his story and gives us now the answer to the terrible doom that fell upon the once-glor-
ious human race. As an answer to the problem of time travel that has been discussed in our
columns, the story should satisfy every one concerned.
THESE STORIES AND OTHERS IN THE FEBRUARY, 1932,
WONDER STORIES ON ALL NEWSSTANDS JANUARY 1, 1932
A beam of electricity leaped from the ship. Instantly shafts of light spread
from the nearest projectile to the ones on either side of it.
260
SPACEWRECKED ON VENUS
I STOOD looking from the space ship into the dense
fog banks which rolled about us. We were des-
cending through the dense cloud blanket of Venus.
How near we actually were to the ground I did not
know. Nothing but an unbroken white haze spread
mistily, everywhere I looked.
With jarring suddenness, a terrific shudder throbbed
the length of the C-A9, rattling the loose articles on
the desk nearby. The dictatyper,
with which I had lately been com-
posing a letter, crashed violently
to the floor. I reeled unsteadily
to the door. It was nearly flung
open in my face.
“Hantel!”
Captain Cragley steadied him-
self on the threshold of my room.
The captain and I had become in-
timate friends during the trip
from the earth. In his eyes I saw
concern.
“What’s wrong?” I queried.
“Don’t know yet! Come — get
out of there, man ! We may have
to use the emergency cylinder!”
I followed Cragley. The crew,
numbering seven, were gathered
in the observation chamber. Most
of the passengers were there too.
The C-A9 carried
twelve passengers, all
men, to the Deliphon
settlement of Venus.
In the earlier days of
space travel, few
women dared the trip
across space.
Several of the crew
worked feverishly at
the controls above the
Instrument board.
“What’s our alti-
tude?” demanded
Cragley.
“Fifteen thousand
feet!” was the prompt
reply. “Our drop is
better than a hun-
dred feet a second!”
Worried wrinkles
creased the kindly old
face of Captain Crag-
ley. He debated the
issue not one moment.
“Into the emer-
gency cylinder — ev-
erybody!”
Herding the pas-
sengers ahead of
them, Cragley's men
entered a compart-
ment shaped like a long tube, ending in a nose point.
When we were buckled into a spiral of seats thread-
ing the cylinder, Cragley pulled the release lever. In-
stantly, the cylinder shot free of the doomed C-U9.
For a moment we dropped at a swifter pace than the
abandoned ship. After that, our speed of descent was
noticeably decreased.
Peering at the proximity detector, Cragley an-
nounced that we were quite safe from a collision. The
C-49 was far below us and dropping fast.
"No danger now,” he assured the passengers, “We'll
come down like a feather. Then all we have to do is
radio Deliphon to send out a ship for us.”
Cragley was equal to the situation. In this year of
2342, when the days of pioneer space flying were com-
mencing to fade into history, it required capable men
to cope with interplanetary flight. If Cragley brought
his crew and passengers safely through this adversity
and also salvaged the valuable
cargo of the C-^9, it was another
feather in his cap.
Quentin, second to Cragley in
command, labored over the send-
ing apparatus. Quentin looked
up at his superior officer with an
uneasy expression. The captain
was quick to sense trouble.
“What’s ■wrong?”
“I don’t like the looks of this,”
was Quentin’s reply. “The sender
refuses to function properly. I
can do nothing with it.”
Cragley’s face bore a troubled
look. He stepped to the side of
his subordinate for a hasty in-
spection of the radio sender.
“The receiver plate doesn’t light
up, either,” said Quentin. “Looks
to me as though someone has been
tampering with this.”
In their spiral of
seats, the passengers
looked silently and
gravely upon the cyl-
inder base where
Cragley and his staff
were gathered over
the apparatus. A dull
glow of cloudy light
coming in through the
transparent inter-
stices of the descend-
ing cylinder softened
and counteracted the
glow of the radium
lights. An intangible
feeling of depression
hung in the air.
“Elevation, five
hundred feet!” an-
nounced one of the
crew from his posi-
tion at the altitude
dial.
“Make a landing,”
ordered Cragley. “We
can’t be very far from
where the C-i9 fell.
If there’s enough of
the ship left, we may
be able to discover
the cause of this accident.”
Down through the lush vegetation, the cylinder felt
its way, dropping very slowly. Finally it came to
rest on a knoll.
“How far are we from the ship?” queried the cap-
tain.
“About seventeen hundred feet south of it, I’d say.”
“We’ll go outside and get organized. We’ve got
to get that platinum shipment off the C-i9 and get
into communication with headquarters at Deliphon
NEIL R. JONES
TNTERPLANETARY commerce, if and
when it begins, will be fraught with all of
the dangers that accompany pioneering ex-
peditions. There will be the terrible climatic
conditions on other worlds to be faced,
strange beasts and plants; and perhaps des-
perate and greedy men. That was the case
when every new land was opened on earth
and it may be expected to be true when we
conquer the solar planets.
Mr. Jones understands these things well.
His vivid imagination, his sense of a good
story and his knowledge of what may be ex-
pected upon other worlds combine to make
this a novel and exciting yarn. And, as is
always desired, it comes to a smashing finish
with a surprising ending.
His scientific weapons are quite novel, but
so realistically does he portray them, that
they strike one as being quite possible and
likely to be used at some future time.
261
262 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
somehow. The proximity detector tells us we’re over
two hundred miles from there.”
One of the passengers spoke up with a suggestion.
“Can’t we go the rest of the way in this? You can
send back for what’s left of the ship. I’ve an im-
portant reason for arriving in Deliphon quickly. If — ”
“Not a chance,” cut in Cragley, both amused and an-
noyed. “The cylinder wouldn’t take us anywhere. All
the cylinder is good for is an emergency descent. It
has no driving power.”
P REPARATIONS were made for a trip to the
wrecked space ship.
“Might I go with you and the men, Captain?” I ven-
tured.
“Sure, Hantel, come along! I’ll have to leave part
of the crew here with the passengers and the cylinder,
so I’m glad to have a few volunteers.”
“Count on me, then,” another of the passengers
spoke up.
I recognized him as Chris Brady. He was a man
about my own age, possibly younger, perhaps in his
late twenties. Brady and I had become friends during
the trip, having spent many hours together. This
was my second trip to the clouded planet. Brady had
made many trips to Venus, spending considerable time
among the colonies. I had learned much about the
man which had interested me.
Our party consisted of Cragley, Brady, three of the
crew, four other passengers and myself. Well armed,
we set out through the yellow jungle in search of the
remains of the C-i9. Quentin insisted that it was not
far away according to the proximity detector which
was especially attuned to the bulk and metal composi-
tion of the space ship.
Progress was difficult in spots, and we found it neces-
sary to hack our way through lush growths of
vegetation, taking numerous detours around interlaced
verdure. We were out of sight of the cylinder almost
immediately.
One of the passengers who had volunteered to ac-
company us complained at the prospects of becoming
lost. Cragley calmed the man’s anxiety with a brief
explanation of the directometer he carried. It was
an elaborate perfection of the old compass. On a
square plate, our position was always designated in
relation to the C-i9, By telescopic condensation of the
field, Cragley was capable of bringing Deliphon on the
instrument. It was well over two hundred miles be-
yond us.
“If Quentin doesn’t have that televisor fixed by the
time we get back, we are in a jam.”
“There’s the ship!”
We looked where the pointing arm of Brady desig-
nated. The wrecked space ship lay imbedded in the
murky waters of a swamp, fully one-third of its bulk
out of sight. Above, the torn and tangled mass of
vegetation bore witness to the rapid descent of the
craft. Mighty branches were torn away from giant
trees. The ship itself was enwrapped by interlaced
creepers which it had ripped loose from the upper
foliage.
We waded through warm, stagnant water which
teemed with marine life. We were halfway to the
side of the C-.^9 when a cry from behind startled
me into action. I turned and stared into the gaping
jaws of a terrifying serpent wriggling through the
shallow water on many legs. Several electric pistols
flashed almost simultaneously. The loathesome mon-
ster turned belly up, floating dead upon the surface
of the swamp water.
From then on, we advanced more cautiously. Com*
ing alongside the crushed hull of the interplanetary
liner, we made an inspection of its position. The space
ship lay nearly right side up, the decks slanting a bit
sharply to one side. Upon the outer deck of the C-^9,
Cragley scratched his head and looked the situation
over.
“Not so bad as I’d feared,” was his comment.
“Wouldn’t be much else but junk here if it hadn’t been
for the jungle breaking the fall.” Cragley pointed up-
ward to the strong barrier of interlaced foliage. “I
hope to discover just why it was we fell.”
“Wasn’t there an explosion?” I inquired. “There
was a great shock just before you opened the door to
my stateroom. For a moment I thought we’d struck
the planet.”
“Yes — there was an explosion,” Cragley replied, a
bit reluctant to voice the admission. “It occurr^ some-
where in the mechanism operating our radium repellors.
That’s why the ship started falling. It’s weight was
left partly free against the gravity of Venus. We had
to leave so quickly there was no time for inspection.”
One by one, we descended into the wrecked C-Jt9.
In that part of the ship which lay lowest below water
level, tiny streams of dirty water trickled between
wrenched plates, forming pools of water which rose
slowly about us. Cragley and his men inspected the
radium repellors. They whispered strangely among
themselves. A steely glint shone resolutely in Cap-
tain Cragley’s eyes.
“There’s deviltry been done here,” he stated fiercely.
“The C-i'9 was deliberately wrecked by someone on
board!”
Heavy silence followed his words. One of the crew
returned from the vault room. He announced to the
captain that the C-i9’s shipment of platinum was in-
tact as they had left it. Captain Cragley turned the
matter over in his mind. He was an astute man. Hav-
ing smelled out a conspiracy, he was planning the best
way he knew to thwart it. The platinum itself pre-
sented an obvious motive. Finally he spoke.
“You passengers are to go up into the observation
room and wait for us. Under no condition are you
to leave the room and wander about the ship.”
Captain Cragley’s orders were obeyed to the letter.
I N THE observation chamber, Brady asked my
opinion of the discovery Captain Cragley had made.
“What’s up, anyways?"
I shook my head. Brady was plainly nervous. Others
of the passengers who had accompanied us shared his
apprehension. Fully a half hour had passed and still
Cragley and his men put in no appearance. Outside,
myriads of life flew, crawled and swam about the
damaged craft.
Presently, Cragley and his three men emerged from
the lower levels of the C-i9. They presented an un-
couth spectacle bedraggled as they were with grime
and dirty water. In their arms they carried many
small boxes. Though small, each box was extremely
heavy, being loaded with a fortune in platinum bars.
“We’ll return to the cylinder,” said Cragley. “There’s
important work to be done.”
Once more we trudged back through the swamp and
jungle, following the trail we had made. Several times,
huge shadowy forms flapped on the wing overhead,
but there was no attack. Back at the cylinder. Cap-
tain Cragley ordered every man out into the open.
He drew their attention.
“There’s serious business here,” he said slowly, hia
eyes darting from face to face. “I want the man, or
SPACEWRECKED ON VENUS
263
men who wrecked the C-i9l"
The captain snapped out the final words. Surprise,
terror and alarm registered among the passengers,
but Cragley evidently saw no admissions of guilt.
"The man who is responsible for our present con-
dition owns this I” exclaimed Cragley suddenly. From
behind him where he had been concealing it, he drew
forth a square box studded with knobs and dials. "I
know which one of you owns this. It was found hidden
in his room by one of my men.”
Again Cragley watched for a betraying face. At the
time, I doubted Cragley’s statement that he knew who
owned the box. If he knew, I asked myself, why was
it he did not come right out and make an accusation
with whatever evidence he held? But that was not
Cragley’s way.
"We’ve also uncovered his two accomplices,” con-
tinued the captain in cool, level tones. “There is proof
which points definitely to them.”
He paused. No one spoke. The silence of death had
descended upon the entire group. For a moment my
scalp prickl^ from the high tension of nerves which
hung over this episode. Cragley’s burning eyes made
every man of us a criminal.
"The penalty for this offense is — death!” Cragley
hurled out the final word with dramatic suddenness.
There was a stealthy movement among those who
stood near the cylinder.
"Drop it!” snapped Quentin. "Or I’ll bore you!”
One of the passengers, Davy by name, dropped an
electric pistol and raised his hands.
"Raynor!” thundered Cragley, pointing a denuncia-
tory finger at another of the space ship’s passengers.
"Let’s have an end to this shamming! Step out there
with Davy! Give up your weapons!”
With the attitude of a fatalist, Raynor stepped for-
ward, allowing Quentin to disarm him.
"And now for the owner of this little box,” said
Cragley, a cryptic promise in his tones. "This radio-
electrifier excited an electric explosion of static in the
radium repellors. The reason, I suppose, was prompt-
ed by designs on the shipment of platinum. Will the
owner of this ingenious little invention step up — or
do I have to call his name?”
No one moved.
"Just as I thought, Brady, you have the nerve to
bluff this thing out to the finish 1”
The face of Chris Brady grew pale. He appeared
stunned. Those nearest him stepped back in surprise.
Davy and Raynor were the only ones who did not
seem taken aback by the revelation.
"But I’ve never seen that thing before,” Brady pro-
tested. "Why, I ”
"Not a chance of wiggling your way out of this,
Brady! We’ve got the goods on you sure enough!
Will you kindly explain how you intended making a
getaway with the platinum?”
"I’m innocent!” exclaimed Brady heatedly. "I don’t
know these men!”
"This contrivance was found hidden in your room,
Brady! Communications between you and these men
were also found!”
Chris Brady fell silent. The evidence was over-
whelming. Cragley turned to the other culprits.
"Have either of you protests to make?”
"We know when we’re caught,” growled Raynor,
shooting a swift glance at Brady. “You’ve got the
goods on us. We’re not squawking.”
"You were taking orders from this man?” the cap-
tain inquired, pointing at Brady.
Both Davy and Raynor replied in the affirmative.
adding further proof against Brady.
"Known him very long?”
"Don’t know him at all,” replied Raynor, "only that
he’s the boss.”
“We’ve been taking orders from him since we left
the earth,” supplemented Davy. "He had us kill the
radio equipment a little while before he set off the ex-
plosion.”
"And how did you expect to get away with the
platinum ?”
“He’s the only one of us who knows,” replied Davy,
nodding his he^ at Brady.
"Brady, I suppose there’ll be another ship along
pretty soon — some of your friends from Deliphon. Now
I see it all. Well, they won’t find us, that’s all. We
won’t be here.”
“I’ve no idea that . . .”
"Pretty thorough, weren’t you?” snapped Cragley.
"But you slipped up a few notches! 'Thought there
wouldn’t be much left of the ship ! Too careless, Brady !
You three men are sentenced to death!"
“A trial !” screamed Brady. “We’re entitled to a trial !”
"Not under the new interplanetary laws! This is
far worse than mutiny, and you’re on Venus now!
You’ve had your trial!”
CHAPTER II
G rim retribution overhung the condemned men.
It promised swift justice. Captain Cragley was
the law. He dealt out the penalty according to
the code governing interplanetary navigation.
“We must get away from this vicinity in a hurry!”
he informed Quentin. "You can bet your last coin
there’ll be a ship around pretty soon to pick up the
platinum and these three men! If there’s a battle, we
haven’t a chance in our present condition!”
"Where’ll we go?” asked Quentin. "Somewheres and
hide?”
"We’ll head for Deliphon. It’s a long, hard tramp,
but it’s our only chance. Get things ready to leave.
Pack everything we’ll want to take with us. Just be-
fore we start, we’ll have this execution over with.”
Quentin immediately apprised the crew and pas-
sengers of the C-i9 of Captain Cragley’s intentions.
He stated the fact that brigands were expected shortly,
telling of what they would do to luckless passengers
who fell into their hands. A second expedition was
sent to the C-i9 for food stores and various articles
it was deemed necessary to carry along on the march.
With the usual brief ceremony required in such pro-
ceedings, Brady, Davy and Raynor were lined up be-
fore a shallow grave which had hastily been dug for
them. Five of the crew stood at attention, electric
guns half raised. Cragley, in a crisp, steady voice,
gave the orders. The three men, white of face, stared
fascinated at their executioners — into the face of death.
"Ready!”
The men of the C-A9 tensed themselves. Brady no
longer expostulated on his pleas of innocence. He faced
his fate like a man.
"Aim!”
The pistols were raised. Five left eyes closed. Sights
were drawn. The interval preceding the fatal word
seemed endless. At the last moment, it was apparent
that Brady was unequal to the strain. He closed his
eyes. His body swayed.
"Fire!”
Five blue streaks shot noiselessly from the weapons.
The three men stiffened and fell — into the cavity dug
for them. Their lives had been forfeited for their
crimes. Dirt was shoveled upon them. No longer
264 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
would fliers of the space lanes fear them. But there
were other outlaws.
Captain Cragley, his crew of six, and nine passengers,
set out in the direction of Deliphon. The trip promised
to be perilous and fraught with danger, as well as
grueling and full of hardships. Though I had been
to Venus once before, I knew little of the yellow
jungles. My time on the clouded world had been spent
in the colonies.
Our first day of tramping took us through lush
jungles and dismal swamps. The ground was fairly
level. Occasionally we came to rough, rocky outcrops
which protruded above ground. These we invariably
circled. Several times we found it necessary to ford
rivers and skirt lakes. Our progress was very slow.
Quentin prophesied we would be on the march for fully
twenty rotations of Venus unless we struck the com-
paratively clear country which Cragley was sure ex-
isted between us and Deliphon.
Fearsome beasts menaced us at all times. We were
ever on our guard, and they usually fell electrocuted
before completing their charges among us. Even so,
we experienced many narrow escapes. Many of these
monsters were larger than the prehistoric dinosaurs
which once roamed the earth. They were difficult to
kill, and it required the maximum voltage of our electric
guns to bring them down.
Clothes torn, bodies bruised and scratched, we pre-
sented a sorry spectacle. Most of us felt the way
we looked, but Cragley’s unquenched determination
spurred us on toward Deliphon. He was anxious
to put a good distance between us and the abandoned
cylinder. He feared the brigands, friends of the three
who had been executed. Though Brhdy had not ad-
mitted the claim, the captain was certain a shipload
of the outlaws were scheduled to show up for the plat-
inum and their comrades.
At night, a camp was set up. Cragley argued against
lighting a campfire, asserting that it would prove a
magnet to the wandering brigands he believed were in
search of us. Quentin, employing smooth diplomacy,
made it clear to his superior officer that a campfire prom-
ised to safeguard us from prowling beasts. Quentin
cited the fact that it was a common sight for a night
cruiser of Venus to look down upon fully a dozen or
more campfires of the troglodytes.
G uards were posted during the night. It was
well. The fires held the nocturnal creatures at
bay. Whenever one of them did muster enough cour-
age to charge, it was revealed in the firelight and shot
down. Several times I awoke to see a bellowing mon-
ster crash in death at the edge of our camp. Sleep-
ing, we found was a fitful task. The first night proved
the worst.
Next morning, we plodded on again through the
thick, yellow jungle. The country became a bit hilly,
yet none the less wooded. In the valleys between, we
often found swamps. While approaching one of these
swamps, we noticed a gray mist hanging over the stag-
nant pools. It appeared not unlike the steaming vapors
we had previously encountered. One of the crew,
plunging ahead of us to gauge the depth of the water
and steer us clear of treacherous, clinging mud, be-
came enveloped in the mist. Almost immediately his
complexion turned black, and he fell strangling in
throes of death. Another of the crew ran forward
to drag back his comrade, but Captain Cragley warned
him back.
“He’s too far gone! There’s nothing we can do
for him!’’
“What is it?’’
“A poisonous swamp gas! There’s enough poison in
one breath to kill twenty men!”
Instinctively, we recoiled from the milky haze.
“How are we to cross?” asked Quentin.
“Put on the space helmets!” ordered Cragley. “That
stuff can’t hurt you unless you breathe it!”
To prove his words, Cragley donned his space hel-
met and advanced into the mist. Looking back through
the transparent facing of the helmet, he beckoned to
us. Previously, many of the passengers had rebelled
against Cragley’s persistence that they carry the added
weight of the space helmets. It had seemed utterly
useless. Now, as they moved unharmed through the
deadly fumes, they thanked his foresight.
We carried the dead body of the luckless man, who
had saved us through his unfortunate discovery, to
the top of the next hill where burial was made.
The second night, it came my turn to share guard
duty with one of the crew while the others slept. The
fires were plentifully fueled with dry branches and
stalks. Fire material was piled in reserve. Grin-
stead, my companion watcher, went his rounds while
I attended the fire, keeping the flames well supplied.
Protected by an embankment erected near a rocky
ledge, the balance of our party slept. My eyes fell
upon the little mound of boxes which contained the
precious metal. Cragley and Quentin lay on each side
of the platinum shipment. Not since we had com-
menced, the march had they let it out of their sight
or reach.
“Hantel!” It was Grinstead’s voice. “Come here
a moment!”
Hastily I ran to his side. He was stooped over a
mark on the ground far to one side of our camp just
within circle of the firelight. Mutely he pointed to a
footprint — the footprint of a six-toed man.
“Troglodytes!” I exclaimed.
Grinstead nodded. “Fresh, too! Think we’d better
awaken Cragley?” he asked. “These cave men don’t
seem bad when they’re peaceful, but if they get going
— they’re devils!”
I stared back into the alarmed eyes of Grinstead and
pondered the matter. I was about to voice an opinion,
leaving it up to Grinstead to do as he pleased, when a
startled cry rang out from the direction of the sleepers.
Instantly, everything was confusion and uproar.
Sleek, naked bodies prowling about our equipment
flashed out of sight into the jungle. The whole camp
came awake, exclamations and profanity mingling with
the weird cries of the troglodytes. Recovering from
my surprise, I fired a shot at one of the rapidly dis-
appearing cave men, but the flickering firelight dis-
torted my aim.
Then occurred the most amazing feature of the
whole affair. A man, fully dressed, ran out of sight
with the troglodytes, melting into the shadows of the
surrounding jungle. Cragley ran up beside me and
saw him too. He was out of sight before either of
us had a chance to fire. At first, I had thought the
man to be one of our party, but his flight with the
cave men disproved the assumption.
“Wonder what the idea is?” spluttered Cragley.
“Our equipment,” said Quentin, pointing to the food
stores and other articles the cave men had hastily dis-
arranged. “They came to steal!”
“But the man!” I insisted.
“A renegade!”
SPACEWRECKED ON VENUS
265
Cragley shook his head. “It's queer,’’ he said. “I
don’t know what to make of it.”
AN EXAMINATION of our equipment proved we
had suffered few losses. Several boxes of syn-
thetic food were gone, and one of the crew had lost
his electric pistol. Aside from these thefts, nothing
else appeared to be missing. Cragley tripled the guards,
and the rest went back to sleep once more. Nothing
else occurred during that night. I was unable to get
the fleeing renegade out of my mind. There was some-
thing familiar about the figure as I had seen it re-
vealed in the glare of the firelight just before the sav-
ages disappeared in the jungle.
The thefts of the food and pistol were logical enough
in view of the fact that the troglodytes had stolen them,
but, guided by the man, why had they neglected steal-
ing the platinum? Evidently, they were unaware of
its presence.
Murky morning suffused the perpetually clouded sky,
and once more we pushed on toward our goal, distant
Deliphon — so near and yet so far. Much to the relief
of everyone, we came out of the jungle into a com-
paratively open country. High grasses grew about
us, but the going was much easier than we had ex-
perienced while in the jungle. The land before us was
a bit rolling and hilly. Leafy copses dotted the land-
scape as far as the eye might reach. In the open, the
danger from lurking beasts was at a minimum. Our
hopes rose higher.
It was around noon when the space ship from the
south cruised into view above us. Cragley viewed it
in consternation.
“The brigands! Now we’re up against it!”
For a moment, pandemonium reigned among the
frightened passengers. All had plans, each one trying
to put his own into force at once. Out of the chaos.
Captain Cragley gathered order.
“Head for the bushes!” he cried. “We’re all armed!
If they come too close, let them have it!”
The assurance in Cragley’s voice I knew was faked.
Like him, I realized the desperate odds which con-
fronted us. The ship was high above. We had plenty
of time to scurry for cover before it dropped lower.
Cragley and Quentin arranged us to the best ad-
vantage, and we waited for the initiative of the out-
laws of Venus.
The ship descended several hundred feet away. Our
retreat into the bushes had been carefully watched.
Several men left the craft and came slowly, uncertainly,
toward our position.
“Stop where you are!” snapped Cragley from his
place of concealment.
“Come across wi’ the metal!” shouted one of them
in a high pitched voice. “An’ get outa there— or get
riddled!”
Cragley’s reply was a blue spurt from the muzzle of
his pistol. The distance was much too far for accurate
firing, but the charge went dangerously close. The
outlaws immediately turned tail and ran for their craft.
We waited for their next act, knowing that the battle
had only commenced.
The space ship shot sksrward, circling our wide clump
of bushes. The survivors of the C-49 tensed them-
selves for a destructive bombardment from above. It
did not come. Captain Cragley was plainly surprised.
He was aware that the outlaw ship carried instant
death if they chose to use it.
The craft hovered some two hundred feet above us.
Cruising slowly in a circle, it suddenly dropped four
objects well outside our improvised stronghold. The
projectiles were shaped like torpedoes. The explosions
which were expected never came. The projectiles stood
straight up from the ground, their front ends im-
bedded deeply. It was all a strange procedure. Crag-
ley was nonplussed.
“They probably contain explosives,” ventured Quen-
tin, answering the question he knew stood out in the
captain’s mind.
“I'm not so sure of that,” said Cragley.
Meanwhile, I had been doing some rapid thinking.
Anxiously, I watched the ship above us, keeping my-
self partially screened from view of any sniper who
might be looking down. I turned to the captain, a
wild plan outlined in my mind.
“Let me go out there,” I offered. “I can ”
“Not on your life!” he exclaimed, placing a restrain-
ing hand upon my arm. “It’s death to go out there!”
“It’s death to remain,” I assured him earnestly.
“But not definitely certain,” he maintained. “For
some reason or other they’re holding off from us. We
have an advantage of some kind, but damned if I know
what it is.”
“Look!” cried Quentin.
He pointed to three of the four projectiles which
were visible from where we lay. They were glowing
strangely with intense light. A jagged beam of elec-
tricity leaped out from the airship. Instantly irides-
cent shafts of light spread from the nearest projectile
to the ones on either side of it. The shafts made a
flashing display, crooked, forked and darting.
“Lightning bolts!” exclaimed Cragley. “We’re sur-
rounded by a fence of them!”
“Penned in — like rats in a trap!”
“What will they do now?”
“Hard to tell. Probably pick us off one by one at
their leisure. They seem to be going to a lot of un-
necessary trouble for no reason at all.”
Three sharp blasts of sound issued from the out-
law ship. A pause, and then followed three more. I
watched Cragley to see what action, if any, he would
take. He seemed undecided. I began to grow uneasy.
“Not a chance of breaking through that screen of
electricity,” said Quentin. “They got us right where
they want to keep us.”
“But why?”
Quentin shook his head. “If it was just the platinum,
they could destroy every one of us, then come in here
and take it.”
CHAPTER III
W EIRD figures suddenly burst the walls of fiam-
ing death. They were outlaws attired in strange
accoutrements. A series of metal rings sur-
rounded them, connected to their bodies with spokes.
The electrical discharges darted all over the rings. As
they came closer, we discovered that they were not sur-
rounded by separate rings but with a continuous spiral
which narrowed together at the top of the head. The
other end dragged on the ground.
“Electric resistors of some kind!” muttered Cragley
whose face wore a hopeless expression. “They walked
right through those lightning bolts!”
Quentin aimed his pistol and fired at one of the
slowly advancing figures. The spiral glowed faintly.
The outlaw continued his approach.
“There goes our last chance!” I cried. “We might
just as well toss up the sponge!”
Cragley was thinking fast. It was unlike him to
give up withbut a fight. But what was he to do when
his weapons had been shorn of their force, leaving
266
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
him utterly helpless before the superior strength of
the brigands.
Several figures rushed from the bushes. They were
panij-stricken passengers. In alarm, despite the warn-
ing cry the captain hurled at them, they rushed straight
pa it the advancing figures with their encumbering
S.jirals. Frightened, bewildered, and hemmed in by
vhe play of lightning, they ran directly in the path of
the electric fence. The crackling bolts enfolded three
of them before the fourth became startled out of his
madness, retreating from the flashing death.
One of the spiral clad figures turned and regarded
the frightened man for a moment. Raising his electric
pistol, he fired, and the passenger from the ill-fated
C-i9 joined his companions who had futilely rushed
the electric barrier.
A voice from the space ship of the brigands sud-
denly gave out an order. The voice came from a
speaker and was many times amplified.
“Crew and passengers of the C-^9 — come out in
the open. Bring the platinum with you. Keep away
from the electric fence unless you wish to die. Come
out — or we shall come in and hunt you down.”
The spiralled figures inside the fence had stopped
at sound of the voice and were waiting for us to
comply with the order from the space ship. More
of the brigands in their electric resistors were ad-
vancing through the lightning bolts which crackled
noisily. The powerful voltage danced and played upon
the spirals, disappearing into the ground.
Cragley paused, undecided. Lines of broken resolve
creased his face. Previously, he had remained strong
and stubborn in the face of overwhelming adversity
when chances were slim. There now remained not even
the slimmest of chances, and stubborn courage yielded
to reason.
“I guess the game’s up, Quentin.” He turned to re-
gard his under officer in speculation.
Quentin waited for his captain’s orders. Again came
the voice from the outlaw craft in its strident tones.
They were tinged with a touch of impatience.
"Show yourselves inside of one minute, or else be
executed at once! Unless ”
“Hold out!” cried a new voice from the speaker,
breaking in upon the first voice. "You have friends
on ”
Then came sounds of scuffling. To our ears came
imprecations and curses.
“Don’t go out there!” warned the second voice in
laboring gasps. “Stay ”
With a sudden snap, the speaker was cut off. Nothing
more was heard. For a moment the lightning bolts
comprising the electric fence flashed out — ^then reap-
peared. A few seconds later they disappeared once
more, returning shortly to flicker in a peculiar manner.
It was evident that some sort of a struggle was tak-
ing place inside the outlaw ship. The electric display
crackled and sputtered louder than ever. With a sud-
den, explosive thunder clap, the four terminal posts
blew to pieces.
The spiralled figures turned in alarm back toward
their craft. One of them, hovering close to our haven
of retreat, did not follow his comrades. Instead, he
drew forth from a long side pocket a black object. At
first glance, it seemed shaped like a pistol. But it
was much longer and was proportioned differently.
He waited patiently until several more of the brigands
had returned to the ship. Raising the black weapon,
he aimed carefully at his fellow outlaws. The man’s
strange actions amazed me. He was turning upon his
own comrades. Several of the brigands fell backward
off the deck of the outlaw craft.
Cragley, beside me, was speechless in surprise at the
rapid succession of events. The outlaw’s strange
weapon which emitted no flash had us all wondering^
Later, we discovered that it was a radium gun, a ne\fi
instrument of destruction still in the experimentjfi
stage. ^
“Who is he?” voiced Cragley.
“Can’t be the fellow we heard over the speaker,” ob-
served Quentin. “This man came through the electric
fence with the first ones.”
“Somebody over there is pulling for us,” insisted
Cragley, “and the man with the black gun must be a
friend, too.”
A flash darted out from the ship, hitting the spiralled
figure operating his mystifying weapon. The spiral
glowed brilliantly. The man inside the spiral remained
unaffected, continuing to manipulate the knob of his
weapon. Something went wrong with it, for the out-
law who had so suddenly turned against his friends
tinkered with it a moment, then threw it from him in
disgust. Meanwhile, the brigands had massed inside
the ship.
W ITH a loud crackling, the speaker’s volume wajfc
thrown on again. An alarmed voice vibrate
in our ears. Above the words came a rattling and bang-
ing — also the muffled sound of shouting men.
“Jasper! Come t’ the control room! I’m locked in!
They’re bustin’ down the door! Bring that gun o’
yours! Hurry, lad!”
Jasper looked upon his broken weapon, hesitated a
moment, then picked it up — butt foremost. Seizing it
in cudgel fashion, he made for the ship.
“Come on!” roared Cragley exultantly. “Now’s our
chance!”
We found our numbers reduced to ten, but every one
of us leaped forward at Cragley’s order, ready to stake
everything on the one desperate, fighting chance which
had come so unexpectedly. We had nearly overtaken
the man we had heard addressed as Jasper when a
crackling flame of lightning leaped out at us. A hissing
roar smote our ear drums and we were temporarily
dazzled by an intense light. The aim had been too high.
The electric charge had gone over our heads. The man
in the control room had frustrated the attempt tq
electrocute us.
Several of the brigands jumped out of the ship to'
meet us. They still wore the encumbering spirals, a
powerful gas of paralyzing effect was shot into our
faces. We became as immobile as statues. Jasper, too,
was overcome. Instantly, we were divested of our
weapons.
The man locked in the control room of the ship had
been taken. Whoever these two men were who had
championed our cause, their desperate efforts had
failed, and now we were all in the same boat. The one
who had addressed us over the speaker was led out of
the ship and shoved into our group beside his fellow
traitor, Jasper. The latter’s spiral was promptly tom
off.
As the outlaws passed among us, searching for con-
cealed weapons, I felt a cold object thrust cautiously
into my hand. My heart thrilled to the contact of a
pistol. I held my hand close to my side that none
might see. The effects of the gas wore off quickly.
The chief of the brigands, his brutal face set in
anger, strode up to the pair who had turned against
him during the stress of combat. His dark eyes blazed,
and he raised his clutching hands menacingly above the
two. Jasper and his friend stared back unabashed, a
SPACEWRECKED ON VENUS
^67
reckless glitter in their eyes, ready for what might
happen.
“I don’t know who you are, but I’ve got suspicions!”
snapped the outlaw. “You’ll both die horribly — ^the
kind of death we reserve for such as you!”
He turned upon Cragley. “Where’s the platinum?”
lie demanded. “Is it over there?” He pointed to the
clump of bushes from which we had lately emerged.
“Or have you hidden it?”
“See for yourself!” snapped Cragley.
“When we find it, all tongues will be silenced,” he
remarked significantly. “If it’s hidden, we’ll find it just
the same. We know how to make tongues wag.”
It was a desperate situation. Cragley knew that the
time of reckoning had come. The platinum lay in an
open space among the bushes where we had taken our
stand on seeing the approach of the outlaw ship. I
fondled the gun I held out of sight.
Leaving a large force of his men to guard us, the
leader of the brigands took the balance of his men and
headed for the spot where Captain Cragley had left the
boxes of platinum.
“Well, Ben,” observed Jasper, philosophically scratch-
ing his head, “we did the best we could.”
“Which weren’t quite enough, Jasper, m’lad.”
“Who are you two?” queried Cragley.
Each one looked at the other questioningly. For a
moment neither spoke. Then through a rough, unkempt
beard, Ben grinned at his companion.
“Might as well tell ’im, Jasper. The game’s up.”
“We ain’t outlaws, that’s sure, though we might have
made believe so,” said Jasper. “He’s Ben Cartley, the
best pal a man ever had. I’m Jasper Jezzan. We’re
from the Hayko Unit.”
My mouth fell open in surprise. I nearly dropped
the gun I had kept concealed in a fold of my clothing.
Everyone, at some time or another, had heard of the
famous Hayko Unit. The order, established since the
perfection of space flying, was comprised of men
pledged to keep the space lanes and colonies safe from
the lawless element.
“We’ll be in the death unit when Ledageree and his
men come back,” cracked Ben, chuckling at his own
grim joke. “Did you plant the platinum, or is it back
there?”
“Back there,” echoed Cragley dejectedly. “We haven’t
a chance. I thought maybe we could make Deliphon
with the stuff before these outlaws got wise.”
^ “We followed the trail easily from the air,” remarked
Cartley. “First, we found the space ship and the cyl-
inder. After that, we just watched for the green camp-
fire markers is all.”
“Campfire markers?” questioned Cragley in excite-
ment. “What do ”
“There comes Ledageree!” interrupted Jasper.
The brigand chieftain and his men were emerging
from the bushes with the little boxes stacked in their
arms.
“We’re sunk now!” exclaimed Quentin.
Impulsively, the captain took a step in the direction
of the space ship. One of the outlaws guarding us
stepped forward before the captain, bringing up his
pistol. An evil light shone in his eyes, the fanatical
gleam of the confirmed killer. It was the man’s inten-
tion to kill Cragley where he stood.
B ut the act was never consummated. A blank look
overspread the outlaw’s face. His face held that
strange expression which is so characteristic of the
iflfectrocuted man. He tottered and fell face downward,
uttering a cry of agony, another of the brigands fell.
seizing frantically at a shaft which protruded from
his body, a shaft of crude hammered metal.
While we all stared in surprise at the fallen men,
Jasper Jezzan, quick to take stock of the situation,
looked out over the high grass.
“Troglodytes!” he cried. “That’s one o’ their metal
darts, Ben!”
Substantiating Jasper’s discovery, there came a
chorus of yells from all sides. Heads came into sight
above the tall grass. Darts flew thick and fast, yet
every one found its mark. The cave men of Venus
brandished their weapons preparatory to rushing in
upon us in overwhelming numbers.
The outlaws blazed away at the savages, but the lat-
ter proved to be difficult targets at which to aim. They
were always on the move, running, hiding, reappearing
to launch their deadly darts from another direction.
Ledageree dropped his armful of the precious metal and
screamed an order.
“Into the ship!”
It was then that I noticed the curious fact that none
of the passengers or crew of the C-49 had been hit. The
remaining outlaws attempted to herd us into the ship.
Their numbers rapidly diminished under the hail of
darts cast at them so accurately by the troglodytes.
Many of the cave men toppled over in death as the out-
laws made a hit, but more came to take the places of
those fallen.
“There’s the white man — the renegade!” shouted
Quentin.
Indeed, it was so. The troglodytes were led by the
man who had broken into our camp on the previous
night. Seizing a pistol from one of the fallen brigand.s,
Ben hastily pointed it at the yelling cave dwellers who
were running full force in our direction, the renegade
at their head.
“No. Ben, no!” cried Jasper. “They’re friends!”
“It’s Brady!” shouted one of the passengers of the
C-J^9. “Chris Brady!”
“Impossible!” e.xclaimed Cragley. “He’s dead!”
“You’re wrong, Cragley!” said I, also recognizing the
renegade. “That is Brady!”
I heard a noise behind me. I turned and looked.
Ledageree and two of his surviving brigands were
clambering aboard the space ship. The horde of trog-
lodytes were nearly upon us. In trepidation, I moved
backward. Ledageree had gained the deck and was run-
ning in the direction of the air lock when Brady saw
him, raising his pistol to fire.
From its concealment, I brought my gun into action.
With hasty aim, I pulled the trigger, cursing myself for
a wide miss. I was a bundle of nerves at the moment.
Again I tried, this time drawing a fine bead. Chris
Brady was clearly outlined beyond the sights of my
pistol.
A split second before I squeezed the trigger, Jasper
Jezzan seized my arm. The flash of power shot harm-
lessly into the sky. Fiercely, I battled with the Hayko
man, raising my pistol to brain him. But Cartley was
upon me, and I went down under their combined weight.
Something hit my head. Blackness engulfed me.
When I regained consciousness, I was aware of the
babble of voices. My head throbbed and swam dizzily.
A ring of troglodytes encircled me. I heard Chris Brady
talking. Had he come back to life in some miraculous
manner? I had seen him shot and buried. His words
penetrated my dazed senses.
“When I saw that everything was stacked against
me with no chances of proving my innocence, I tried
an old trick, Cragley. I was afraid you’d get wise to
me, but you didn’t. I fell a split second before your
268 WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
men fired. ^ I watched your lips for my signal. None
of the shots touched me. I played dead and was buried
in the shallow grave. When you went, I dug myself
out. I came pretty near smothering.”
“We buried you alive!”
“You did, and I’m thankful I was alive — and still
am.”
“But the troglodytes?”
“My friends,” replied Brady. "I’ve been among them
a great deal during my life upon Venus. I know their
language and customs. They look up to me and obey
my orders. We’ve been following you. The other night,
we broke into your camp and stole food and this pistol.”
“Then you’re not the outlaw we supposed you to be?”
Cragley was amazed beyond words. Apologies flooded
to his lips and remained unspoken. What apology could
there be to this innocent man he had all but sent to
his death?
“No — I’m not, but I knew there was no way of prov-
ing it to you,” replied Brady, “at least not until Deli-
phon was reached. With my friends, here, I followed
your trail. We heard the sounds of fighting far ahead.
When we found you attacked by outlaws, I knew it was
my chance to save you and prove myself.”
“You have proved yourself!” exclaimed Cragley
warmly. “But what about Raynor and Davy?”
“They thought Brady was their leader they’d been
told t’ watch for!” interrupted Jezzan spiritedly.
“Plain as day, ain’t it, Ben?” He turned to his comrade
for a confirmative nod. “There’s your man!”
Jasper Jezzan pointed at me where I sat on the
ground, collecting my wits. I knew that I had been
caught red handed. Denials were useless.
“Ern Hantel!” exclaimed Cragley in surprise. “He’s
the last man I’d suspect!”
“Just the same, he’s the man you thought Brady
was,” persisted my prosecutor relentlessly. “He put
green flares in your campfire ashes, so’s we could fol-
low you.”
“How did you men come to be with the outlaws?”
asked Brady, a bit confused by the surprising revela-
tions he had heard.
“The authorities at Deliphon have suspected this
gang for quite a spell,” replied Cartley. “Jasper and
I joined ’em t’ find out. We’re much obliged t’ you and
your cave men, Brady. You got us out of a tight pinch.”
Cragley confronted me. “What have you to say for
yourself, Hantel?” he asked grimly.
“They’ve got my number right,” I grumbled, rubbing
an aching head. “No use bucking a Hayko man in a
THE
place like this.” I nodded in the direction of Jezzan and
Cartley. “Ledageree was warned against strangers.”
“Then you admit Brady is innocent?” queried the
captain, seeking the confession which would irrevoc-
ably clear the accused man.
“Yes. He’s innocent. Davy and Raynor never knew
me. I sent my instructions to them through Brady,
leaving messages where they believed he’d left them.
When we left the earth, I recognized Davy and Raynor
right off. For secrecy’s sake, they weren’t supposed
to talk with the man they took orders from. I took ad-
vantage of this fact by placing my article of identifica-
tion in the possession of Brady.”
“The brown collars you loaned me!” exclaimed Brady,
realizing the mode of his undoing.
“After I’d first stolen your collars and destroyed
them,” I added. “I was afraid of something going
wrong before Ledageree and his men picked us up. I
blew out the radium repellors of the C-Jt9 and planted
the evidence in Brady’s room. I knew if anything hap-
pened Raynor and Davy would identify him as the man
from whom they took instructions. That left me %
loophole.” M
“The case against you is completed, Hantel!” Cra^
ley’s face was stern and set. “You’re the one who'll
going to be shot this time, and there won’t be any
chance of falling before my men fire, either!”
“Just a minute,” interposed Jezzan, thrusting back
the angry captain. “We’ve got a say here. Headquar-
ters wants this man. He’s got more information than
he’s given. There’s some other affairs he can talk
about. He’s going back with us.”
Cragley didn’t argue the matter. It was beyond his
authority. Besides, if I received my just dues, he cared
little where I was executed.
They placed me under strong guard on the outlaw
ship, and we flew back to Deliphon. Knowing me for
the clever, resourceful criminal which I pride myself on
being, Jezzan and Cartley personally conducted me to
the earth. There, I was given a brief examination.
At present, I find myself in the interplanetary penal
colony of Phobos where I am being held for reasons
peculiar to the Hayko Unit. I expect death most any
day. In the meantime, I spend much of my numbered
hours gazing out of my prison into the realms of space.
The rotating sphere of Mars stands prominent againa^:
starlit skies. Occasionally, I see Phobos’ companiqji*
moon, Deimos. Beyond the transparent facing of
prison cell stretches an airless void. There is but one
escape. I await it, absorbed in fatalistic reflection.
END
Interplanetary Plot Contest
The $10.00 prize for the best Interplanetary Plot for the Winter 1932 Wonder Stories Quar-
terly has been awarded to Edward Morris. 3914 W. Monroe Street, Chicago, 111.
We are now ready to receive plot.s for consideration for the $10.00 prize to be awarded in the
Spring 1932 Quarterly.
As announced, the prize winning plots will be worked up by our best authors and used in
stories in the Quarterly.
Write for details of the Interplanetary Plot Contest to Editor, Wonder Stories Quarterly,
98 Park Place, New York.
269
The Revolt of the Star Men
(Continued from page 2J(5)
Selba which was sprawling on the floor, beside the pilot
seat. A gaping hole in the tough metal plating under
his right arm, and a thin trickle of blood, told clearly
what had happened. “They got him,” the Earthman
muttered. “But why?”
Jan’s eyes had wandered to the narrow desk before
the pilot seat. There were the instruments and devices
by means of which the ship was controlled, and there
was the lever which had moved the ray projector in its
mounting just beneath the nose of the craft. A cal-
culating pad and a stylus were lying on the desk.
Something was written on the pad — a message. She
called to Shelby, and together they read the brief,
hastily scrawled note. It was in English:
“To Janice Darell and Austin Shelby, Greeting.
Alkebar is breaking into the ship, and Telaba is com-
ing. You will be with him, I know. From among my
enemies I have chosen my friends. A man must have
friends, and traitors do not serve. Forgive me for
stealing your glory, Mr. Shelby. I shall be grateful.
Sidi Yadi, Hekalu Selba, Akar.”
Shelby looked at Jan and then at Telaba who was
standing close beside them. “So that’s it,” he said
slowly. “Nobody is totally bad.”
“Not even Hekki,” Jan put in. A hint of a wistful
smile flickered about her lips. “I guess it’s the end
now,” she went on. “A glorious adventure. Back to
Earth!” Her voice had taken on a dreamy exultant
quality.
“The end, Jan?” Austin asked. “Haven’t you for-
gotten something?”
She looked puzzled, and then she laughed a brief gay
little laugh which made roguish dimples twinkle in her
cheeks. Even her fantastic attire could not hide her
beauty. “You ridiculous old dumb-bell! Of course it
isn’t the end — ^just the beginning — with you!”
It was a considerable time before Shelby was able
to repair the Selba sufficiently so that she could get
underway for Mars but the t^k was finished at last.
Escorted by the rebel chief’s fierce hordesmen, they set
out for the Red Planet.
Somehow, snatches of the ancient Bedouin song
tinkled in Shelby’s mind. He had read old books.
“Across the desert I come to thee. On a stallion shod
with fire ”
That did not quite fit the situation, for Jan was with
him. But his steed, the Selba, was truly shod with
fire. The rocket nozzles — and damaged though she
was, she behaved like a thoroughbred. And out there
in the void beside the ship — what were those shapes?
— bizarre, impossible, yet real — real.
■3S- * *
In docks scattered over Earth and Mars, battleships
of space and their crews wait expectantly for an alarm
that may never come. Telescopes comb the sky. Out
there the Star People, new arrivals in the solar system,
are shifting, moving about restlessly. But the planets
feel secure. Their fleets could cope with the Space
Men, were they a hundred times more numerous. And
once in a while, on the desolate Sahara, or Mohave or
Taraal, shadows come, settling down like flecks of dark-
ness from the midnight heaven. They are Telaba’s
and Ankova’s people. For a while — a day perhaps —
they stay, bartering their exotic treasures for human
wares. Then silently, mysteriously, they are gone, into
the night
THE END
For the January, 1932,Wonder Stories We Offer
Martian Guns
BY STANLEY D. BELL
Upon the moon's bleak surface, the little crew searched desperately for the secret of the menace
The Derelicts of Ganymede
BY JOHN W. CAMPBELL, JR.
Powerful industrialists on earth, they cringed against nature’s forces on that, strange world
The Duel on the Asteroid
BY P, SCHUYLER MILLER AND DENNIS McDERMOTT
With the girl as his pawn, Lem Gulliver used cimtting against cunning in a battle for freedom
The Crystal Empire
BY SIDNEY D. BERLOW
Deep in the earth’s heart roamed the monstrosities of crystal, their power undisputed
The Time Stream
BY JOHN TAINE ^
(In Three Parts — Part Two)
Into limitless time they plunged to seek the answer of the monuments
What Is Your Science Knowledge?
Science Questions and Answers
The Reader Speaks — Letters from Readers
ON ALL NEWSSTANDS DECEMBER 1, 1931
r;
(Illustration hy Paul)
The water was evaporated by the ever-shining sun until there was none left for the
thirsty plants. Every year more workers died in misery.
270
The Martian
based upon the Third Prize ($15.00) Winning Plot of the Interplanetary Plot Contest
won by Allen Glasser, 1610 University Ave., New York
r [E rolling, yellow sand reflected the heat of
the sun in little, shimmering waves. It re-
flected the sun’s light blindingly throughout
all its visible expanse, with the exception of one
spot where lay a
circular shadow. In
the great steely-
blue dome of the
sky there were no
clouds.
The shadow, al-
though not large,
was very dark and
distinct. The curv-
ed, even line of its
circumference was
precisely drawn.
In the air was a
persistent rattle of
sound — a series of
closely spaced ex-
plosions, ever ris-
ing in intensity.
Suddenly a small,
uneven shadow de-
tached itself from
the circular one;
and floated swiftly
across the sand.
The rattling sound
increased to a tre-
mendous booming
roar, and the large
shadow began to
fade. At the same
time, the smaller
one grew steadily
darker.
High above the
sand, a man was
falling — much too
swiftly.
The surface of
the sand had been
shaped into hills
by the prevailing
winds. These long,
ridge-like hills, or
dunes, were con-
vex and gradual in
slope on their
windward sides,
but on their lee
sides they were
concave, and very steep.
It was near the top of one of these steep
slopes that the man landed. His frail legs and
body crumpled under the weight of his head; he
pitched forward, and half rolled, half slid to
the bottom where he came to rest more gently,
the target of a small avalanche of sand.
Immediately, he began to struggle; and, fail-
ing in his attempts to rise, stretched his slim
arms skyward and uttered a sharp, squealing
cry, . painfully prolonged. Far above him a
spherical object rapidly diminished in size. Fix-
edly he watched
the sunlight glint-
ing on its polished
grey sides; watch-
ed it shrink to a
tiny ball, a point,
and then — nothing.
He was alone.
The pressure was
horrible. He buried
his head in the hot
sand, and clapped
his ears in a vain
attempt to ease the
throbbing pain.
They must have
underestimated the
weight of the Too-
nian atmosphere if
they had expected
him to live long
here! It did not
hurt his body, but
his head was being
crushed. He knew
that he would soon
die — and was glad.
This wild, sense-
1 e s s punishment
would be at an
end.
He opened his
eyes again, and
stared in growing
fascination and
wonder at the
great arched blue
dome above him.
Gradually the spec-
tacle of this weird-
ly beautiful cano-
py occupied his
whole attention. It
was like a soft
curtain of light
blue material hid-
ing the blackness
of the sky and the
gleaming stars ; —
yet the sun shone
through. For a moment he forgot his loneliness,
his pain, in rapt contemplation of the immense
perfection above him — but only for a moment.
Then the explanation came to him. That beau-
tiful blue was the heavy atmosphere of Toon,
which was slowly crushing him to death! He
closed his eyes.
The heat was terrific, but not as intense as he
ALLEN GLASSER A. ROWLEY HILLIARD
who furnished the plot who wrote the story
M any writers of science fiction, who have not
given the matter much thought, assume that
a man of intelligence from one planet would
meet a cordial and sympathetic welcome on another
world.-. It is assumed that people are everywhere
educated, curious about other worlds and other cul-
tures, and eager to help a visitor from an alien race.
Unfortunately there is no assurance that such is
the case. Even were the members of another race,
on another world possessed of education, there would
be bound to be among them low and brutish ele-
ments. And if a stranger from another world, dazed
by new conditions and unable to make his wants
known, were to fall into their hands his fate might
not be happy.
We have read no story that pictures with such
clarity and insight the experiences of a man on an-
other world than his own, than does this present
story.- With the basis of a splendid plot Mr. Hilliard
has worked up a simply marvelous story.
271
272
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY^
had expected. Toon was nearer the Sun than
was his own world — ^millions of miles nearer;
yet he was not badly burnt, and this puzzled
him. The explanation must again lie in the
heavy atmosphere — serving as insulation, he fin-
ally decided ... He didn’t care.
He felt strangely detached. What signifies
life — or death — ^to a tiny being separated by fif-
ty million miles from any of its kind? Deposited
on this strange planet, he had no hopes of sur-
vival; his only emotion was astonishment that
he had lived a moment.
He struggled to remove the parachute that had
been so inadequate in easing his fall. Move-
ment — even the raising of an arm was serious
effort. He was glued to the ground by the tre-
mendous gravitational pull of a planet so much
greater in size than his own. He relaxed.
Why struggle? With the passing of hope, all
incentive to effort passes also. He felt no dis-
tress at the thought of death. Life, not death,
would be freakish in this great wasteland.
And he was past anger now. What they had
done to him they had done through hate and
fear. Only hate and fear could conceive of so
fantastic a torture for a fellow being. There
was no satisfaction now in the knowledge that
they had feared him ; nor did he care about their
hate . . . They had won. They would have their
way, and all the people of the Loten would suf-
fer in consequence . . .
Loten! A wave of sick loneliness swept over
him ... A point in the sky, obscured by a
weird curtain of blue — his home!
C ERTAINLY, no man had ever suffered thqs !
A surge of self-pity welled up within him.
Certainly no being had ever been forced to long
for the world — the globe which gave it birth!
This horror was reserved for him alone . . .
He clenched his fists. Reason returned to res-
cue him from emotion. Loten did not exist for
him. He was outside of the world — a. tiny flame
of consciousness in space. And what did that
amount to, after all, he asked himself . . . What,
but Death . . . ?
For a long time he lay there in the sand, quite
motionless.
The sun was sinking. Its blazing heat was
abating somewhat; its face was large, and red.
For miles, across the surface of the sand, the
shadows of the dunes were stretching out . . .
And out of the sunset a tiny speck of black ap-
peared.
Where he lay the man heard the sound of it —
a steady drone, or buzz. At first it did not catch
his attention, its inception was so gradual; but
soon it became a roar, and he opened his eyes
with a start. He had heard no sound since the
departure of the space ship — ^had expected none.
An uneasy excitement gripped him. He strained
his eyes upward ...
Suddenly, over the dune against which he lay,
there shot a something, roaring thunderously.
He cowered down, stunned by the terrific sound
of it; but he watched it with wide eyes, as it
moved across the sky.
It was T-shaped; with the cross-piece going
before. Beneath it hung two wheels. It gleamed
metallically.
Without attempting to rise, he howled shrilly,
time after time, catching his breath in gasps —
while the thing moved steadily away.
Following an undeviating line, it left him far
behind, diminished to a speck, and disappeared.
The sound of it lingered when he could see it no
longer.
His breath came quickly, spasmodically,
through parted lips; his throat was tight, an<Lhls
heart pounded. 'The staggering surprise of what
he had seen and heard left him incapable of
thought. His mind was a racing turmoil of
questions. His contentment, his resignation were
gone — destroyed in a moment; and in their place
rose a great uneasiness.
The return of Hope, to a man who has defin-
itely put it away from him, is a joy closely akin
to pain in its intensity. His whole body shook
as he struggled with the sand, attempting to
rise.
He had seen a machine, he knew. It copld
not have been an animal. It was not alive, aad
it was made of metal ... A machine mea^
reasoning beings. There must be reasoning
ings on Toon — where Loten’s scientists had ar-
gued that they could not be ! And machines that
travelled through space! Perhaps . . .
As the new possibilities of his situation burst
iipon him, his homesickness returned a thou-
sandfold; and he knew that he could rest no
longer — could not wait in the sand for death.
He must struggle — he must strive, until th$ end
came — ^because there was a chance! :
Immediately, his mind became purposeful,
and he took stock of his position. He knew
that the whole of Toon was not like this great
stretch of sand. Thousands of years of obser-
vation of the bright planet had convinced the
scientists of the Loten that it bore vegetation —
and probably animal life of some sort . . .
But rational beings! His astonishment re-as-
serted itself. Five thousand years of systematic
signalling had brought no response, and the pro-
ject had lately been abandoned. Yet ...
He shook his head, and returned to his jBPotit
lem. He must not waste time now. : >
He had food enough in his stomach to Iasi;
three days at least, and he would not need water
for even longer. He suddenly realized, with
enormous satisfaction, that the pain in his head
was considerably less than at first. Perhaps his
system would be able to adjust itself to the at-
mospheric pressure . . .
The great question was where — and how — to
go. He must go somewhere. Only motion would
satisfy his craving for accomplishment of some
sort. He would get no help on this great, sterile
plain. He had no guarantee that another of thflf.
flying machines would come near him, and eveh
if it did there was not much hope of attracting
its attention. No, he must move . . .
He decided to follow in the direction the ma-
chine had taken. Its destination might be near-
by — or it might be thousands of miles away.
The probability seemed to be in favor of the
former hypothesis, because the machine bad
THE MARTIAN
273
been moving so very slowly. . . . Anyway, it was
a chancel
Pulling his legs up under him, he made an-
other determined attempt to rise; and finally
succeeded in standing erect. Biit it made his
legs ache terribly; and when he tried a step he
slipped, falling back with a jarring thud.
He would have to crawl.
R idding himself of the parachute, and with
no further hesitation, he set out, crawling
slowly and laboriously, keeping the sun at his
back.
The heat was less oppressive now. The sun
had sunk to a point where its rays were no hot-
ter than at midday on his Loten; and he mar-
velled at the similarity of the two climates. He
had seen none of the water vapors that astrono-
mers described as almost constantly enveloping
Toon. Toon — what he had seen of it — seemed
to be as dry as the Loten, if not more so.
He climbed the long, gradual slope of a dune;
and, after surveying the endless stretch of sand
which met his view at the top, slid down the
?steep side, and crawled doggedly on.
Night was falling. The blue dome above him
steadily darkened until it began to take on the
appearance of his own native sky.
He was dead tired within an hour. He lay
still for a time, breathing deeply — marshalling
his strength. He was in excellent physical con-
dition, but here his body was so heavy that the
slightest motion was a strain. Soon, however,
his eager spirit drove him onward. “
At the end of another hour, happening to '
raise his head, he uttered an involuntary cry.
Points of light glimmered in the sky ... So he
was to see the stars after all! — though only at
night, it seemed. He was relieved. In the back
of his mind had been the ever-growing certainty
that he would not be able to keep a direct course.
He rested again, and picked out certain designs
that would be helpful as guides.
He wondered if one of them were Loten. They
were very dim and they blinked strangely; and
their arrangement was meaningless to him. He
fixed upon one of them — the brightest — and
imagined that it might be his world — where his
friends were, and his enemies; where his wives
grieved for him perhaps; where his children
laughed and played; where he might one day
return . . .
He crawled along through the sand.
It was not really dark — only twilight. He
wondered if this were night on Toon. It must
be. Almost directly ahead of him — just a little
to the right — was a radiance close to the horizon.
It puzzled him. Soon it was spreading over the
sky — a pale, ghostly light. Then a bright point
appeared — a line; it grew. He stared in abject
wonder while a great, white disk mounted into
the sky, illuminating the scene around.
He rested a while, and watched it. It was
Toon’s satellite. It could be nothing else. But
beside it the two luminaries of his own world
were as pygmies. He was still watching it, fascin-
ated, when he resumed his journey.
CHAPTER II.
Signs of Life
A ll through the night he travelled; and in-
to the rising sun. The noonday heat forced
him to take a prolonged rest, but he fought on
as soon as possible ; and sunset found him crawl-
ing weakly onward. The cool of night revived
him somewhat. He knew that the strain under
which he labored would hasten hii^ time of sleep,
and that worried him. Even now, he was often in
a semi-conscious state. Still, he could not stop.
When the sun rose again, it shone through
trees; and far across the yellow sand his tired
eyes saw green hills. The sight invigorated him
— spurred him on to stronger efforts. Soon after
midday he lay panting in the shade of trees.
The trees astonished him. They towered above
him, fully five times as high as any he had ever
seen. Their stems were of enormous girth —
rough and hard to the touch. There seemed to
be something moving in their heavy foliage, far
above him, and he heard faint, sharp whistling
sounds. He looked around uneasily.
The size of the trees worried him. If there
were animal life, it might be proportionately
large. He shuddered. The desert, although un-
comfortable, had had one advantage: he had
been alone there.
Still, it was not loneliness that he was seek-
ing, he thought grimly. Obviously, he . . .
He stiffened. He had been staring abstract-
edly at the coarse grass which grew thickly
around him. Now his eyes became focussed upon
a movement there — not three feet away. The
grass was waving strangely, in a peculiar, un-
even line ; and he caught sight of something
slim and green, that was not the grass. His
throat contracted painfully. The thing did not
seem to move, yet it was coming nearer. When-
ever he caught sight of a part of its body, it ap-
peared stationary; yet the waving of the grass
was closer, and ever closer. It was very close
now . . .
Suddenly his power of locomotion returned.
He rolled over backward, and scrambled along
the ground to a tree. Grasping the rough trunk,
he pulled himself erect; and held himself in
that position, panting.
He could see the thing more plainly now. It
was like a long, green whip in the grass. Its
forepart was raised in the air, and terminated in
a triangular head, with two bright eyes whose
steady, unwinking stare made him tremble weak-
ly. With an effort he took his eyes from the
creature; and, pushing himself away from the
tree, ran desperately, as far as his legs would
carry him. When he fell, he continued to crawl
— ^farther, and ever farther into the green woods.
He wondered if all creatures crawled in this
world of Toon. Perhaps the great gravitational
pull made erect postures impossible.
For a long time he climbed steadily, thread-
ing his way through the underbrush, skirting
fallen trees. He felt increasingly drowsy. His
sleep period would come soon, he knew. He
274
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
could not stave it off much longer. And when
he had sleipt, he must eat . . .
He came to level ground. Ahead was an open-
ing in the trees, where a wide ledge of stone
was revealed. Out upon this he crawled, and
gazed at the scene that opened out below. Miles
of waving tree tops met his view; but what held
his attention was a strip of silver cutting the
green.
He felt a warm glow of satisfaction. Water,
in his mind, was closely associated with organi-
zation, transportation facilities, reasoning be-
ings ...
Yet he must be wary. He had no idea what
sort of beings they might be. This might be a
canal, but it was strangely irregular in its
course. At least he was making progress . . .
A peculiar, ringing sound came from the trees
below. It was utterly unfamiliar to him. Nerv-
ing himself, he determined to discover what it
was. He climbed down from the stone, and be-
gan the journey down the hill.
As he progressed the sound became louder,
and others were added. He was puzzled by a
low, intermittent muttering. It made him vag-
uely uneasy, and with every moment his agita-
tion increased. The muttering was now very
definitely spaced into irregular but continuous
tones.
And he knew that he was listening to a con-
versation.
He was frightened. Now that he was so
near to what he had been seeking, his courage
left him; and he lay trembling, flat on the
ground, awed by the tmoming voices of the crea-
tures.
They must be very large, he thought, to utter
such deep tones.
He had lain there for perhaps five minutes,
when, suddenly, there came a fending crash;
and, peering ahead, he saw the green top of a
tree sway violently, sink, and disappear from
sight. At the same time there came a louder
cry, followed by the blending of two thunder-
ous voices, speaking simultaneously. . . . Then
a heavy thud, an'd another cry . . .
H e crawled cautiously forward. He reached
the fallen tree. Its trunk was suspended
above the ground by the projection of a number
of its large braches. He peered beneath it.
Directly before him, in a small clearing, two
creatures were struggling together. They stood
erect upon their huge legs, using their crudely
bulky arms and hands to strike and tug at each
other. They were tremendous in size — fully
three times human stature; yet their heads were
smaller than men’s. Their erect posture gave
them a weirdly half-human look, which was be-
lied by the brutal savagery of their aspects.
Their brows were low; their heads were covered
with long hair; and in their gaping mouths he
saw rows of sharp, white fangs. Their skin, in-
stead of being golden, was a dirty grey in color,
and was covered with short curling hair or fur.
But he could see very little of their bodies,
because — and this sight seemed to him the
strangest of all — they were almost entirely cov-
ered with cloth. This woven material was brown i
in color, and shaped to hang close to their bodies,*
even over the arms and legs. He lay very still,
watching the titanic struggle with ever growing
wonder.
They appeared to be evenly matched. Once,
one of them was hurled heavily to the ground,
but he leaped effortlessly to his feet. Both of
them grunted and uttered sharp exclamations
at intervals. They tramped back and forth,
tearing up the grass, crushing down the small
bushes.
They must greatly hate each other, he thought
— or perhaps it was natural for them to fight
like this. Now one of them was tiring — ^the
smaller. Its movements were slower, and it-
stepped almost constantly backward. Suddenly
from its bulbous nose spurted a red stream. He
shuddered. The sight of these two strangely
man-like creatures beating and tearing at one
another sickened him.
The larger creature was pressing its advan-
tage, advancing upon the other with cruel, flail-
ing blows. Suddenly the smaller one crumpled
to the ground, and lay still. The other turned
away. It seemed satisfied. It grasped an object
which was leaning against a tree — a cutting tool
apparently, consisting of an edged block of metal
attached to a long handle of wood; and without
a backward glance at its fallen’ foe, made off
through the trees.
The creature on the ground was alive. He
could see the rise and fall of its breathing under
the cloth covering of its breast. But the bright,
red blood was still running out of the nose. It
had lost an astonishing amount; and he feared
that, unassisted, it would soon die. He must
try to help.
With wildly beating heart, he crawled under
the tree trunk and out into the clearing.
As he moved through the grass, he made a
slight rustling sound, which the creature heard.
It turned its head, and stared directly at him.
He stopped fearfully . . .
The creature uttered a loud cry, and scrambled
to its feet. He raised one hand, attempting a
friendly gesture; but the creature, after watch-
ing him for a moment with wide eyes, bounded
swiftly away into the woods. He heard the
thumping and crashing of its passage through
the underbrush long after it had disappeared
from sight.
His first sensation was one of immense relief.
He had been desperately afraid.
Evidently the thing had been afraid of him,
too. And that was surprising . . . Clearly, these
could not be the reasoning things that had built
the flying machine he had seen. His relief was
quickly followed by disappointment. For a mo-
ment he had imagined that his first objective had
been reached. Now he realized that he might be
as far from it as ever. Toon was immense.
Probably, now, he was in a country inhabited by
inferior beings — beings that would be constantly
hostile and dangerous to him. If that were so,
his quest would end here, he knew. Sleep could
not be warded off any longer. He could not
THE MARTIAN
276
protect himself. Soon he must eat — and there
was no food.
He crawled into the bushes; and lay down,
lonely and sick. He would stay here. This was
failure — and the end. But he was not sorry for
having tried . . .
Above him the sky was not blue, now; but a
strange, dead grey. Nowhere could he see the
sun. The wind sighed mournfully in the trees.
He slept.
CHAPTER III.
In Confinement
H e awakened in shivering terror. His entire
body was wet. Water was falling on him.
It was falling on the ground all around and on
the trees — thousands, millions of drops. He
choked, as he tried to breathe the damp, satur-
ated air. Desperately he looked around for some
protection, but there was none. He covered his
face as best he could with his folded arms, and
cried out in fear.
There came a shout; and he heard something
moving toward him, but he did not care. Horror
of the falling water crowded all other emotions
from his mind.
One of the creatures was standing over him.
He heard others approaching. They were shout-
ing loudly back and forth to one another. In
a moment, there was a circle of them, all around
him.
He was too distressed to pay them any atten-
tion. After a time one of them bent down and
grasped him under the armpits. He felt himself
lifted into the air. He did not struggle, even
when their faces were all around him — ^very
close.
Now they were walking through the trees, one
of them carrying him in its huge arms, quite
gently. He was scarcely conscious of his sur-
roundings. It was becoming more and more
difficult to breathe.
Then he felt himself laid down on something
soft and dry. The water was not falling on him
now. He opened his eyes.
They had placed him under a shelter. He
could hear the water on the black covering above
him. There was one of them on each side of
him, where he lay on what seemed to be a cush-
ioned seat ....
Suddenly there came a rumble, and the seat
beneath him quivered and shook. He struggled
to sit up. One of the creatures aided him, and
wrapped a dry cloth about his body. He was
grateful.
The seat was bumping up and down violently.
On each side, he could see the trees moving slowly
backward. He realized that he was in a vehicle.
It jolted constantly, and he imagined that it
must run directly on the rough ground. It made
a continuous and tremendous noise. But it was
a machine of transportation, however crude ; and
he quickly forgot his bodily discomfort, as the
implications of this fact crowded through his
mind.
He looked with a new interest at his captors.
They were talking together excitedly — evidently
about him, for they never removed their eyes
from him. In spite of their strangeness and sav-
agery, they must have reasoning minds. He
could be pretty sure of that, now ....
The vehicle came to rest, and to either side he
saw structures, made, evidently, of cut trees.
Then his heart leaped again, as he daw that they
had glass. So they knew how to make that!
There were only a few pieces of it let into the
walls — but it was certainly glass, and his hopes
rose a bit higher.
They carried him into one of the houses. It
was quite dark. They set him down upon a large
table. They were increasing rapidly in num^rs,
jostling in through the door and crowding around
the table.
In the wall near him there was one of the
pieces of glass. Abashed by the dozens of staring
eyes, he looked through this, and saw a broad
field, its soil turned up in long, straight rows—
evidently for planting. Near the center of the
field were two creatures, which immediately com-
manded his attention.
They were not alike. One was similar to those
he had already seen, but the other was even
larger and of a different shape. Four legs car-
ried the gTMt, bulky body, which rested in a hori-
zontal position, as did the thick neck and long,
tapering head. It was dragging the tool which
turned up the furrows of soil, while the other
followed behind, governing its directions.
Clearly, he thought, there were many types of
creatures on Toon. He would have to try to un-
derstand their relations to one another ....
Inside the room there was much noise, and the
air was hot, damp, and very unpleasant to
breathe. He was not afraid of the creatures
now; and instinctively he realized that it was
curiosity that brought them here, and that they
meant him no harm. A few were trying to
speak to him, looking directly into his eyes and
making monosyllabic sounds. This amused him
at first. They would not be quite so hopeful If
they understood from where he had come.
But in another moment his amusement had
vanished. One of the creatures, standing near,
placed a finger close to where he sat, at the
same time uttering a short disyllabic sound :
“Table!”
A thrill shot through him. He had expected
no such intelligence on the part of his captors.
A new wave of hope surged up within him . . .
Carefully, he repeated the gesture' and the word.
H IS action was followed by a burst of excited
conversation in the room. Several made
sharp, guttural noises which he guessed meant
gratification or amusement.
Immediately a number of them took up the
game; and he eagerly did his part, repeating
the sounds they made and identifying them with
objects. With every possible gesture he tri^
to indicate to them his pleasure and gratifica-
tion.
He was sorry when they began to go away.
It had been getting steadily darker for some
time, when, suddenly, the room was brilliantly
276
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
illuminated; and, looking quickly around, he saw
a number of bright globes. This event brought
him to a high pitch of elation. The character
of the vehicle in which he had ridden had made
him fear that they knew nothing of electricity,
but here was tangible evidence that they did.
His dream of a return to Loten seemed less like
a wild imagining at every moment.
He was beginning to think of these creatures
as people, almost human beings.
Now, only two of them remained. From their
glances he knew that they were talking about
him. Finally, one of them lifted him from the
table ; and, walking swiftly, carried him through
the door, across a short stretch of open ground,
and into a smaller and darker structure, there
laying him down upon a bed of cloths and cush-
ions in one corner of the single room. The other
followed them in, carrying a china dish and cup.
Setting these beside him, they both pointed with
their fingers to their open mouths. He under-
stood immediately, and was glad. He needed
nourishment badly.
But when he looked into the dish his pleasure
abated. It contained an assortment of what ap-
peared to be parts of plants and — he tried to
conceal his horror — animal flesh.
Looking up, he nodded — a gesture that he had
quickly learned; and to his great relief they
turned and left the room, closing the door. He
heard a sharp click.
The flesh he immediately put aside. He did
not like to think what its origin might be. He
studied the plants. They had evidently been sub-
jected to a heat process, but had not been chemi-
cally refined in any way. The percentage of
nourishment in them must be very low, and it
would be necessary for him to eat great quanti-
ties to sustain his strength. He wondered how
long his stomach could stand it.
These people must eat almost daily to sustain
themselves on such fare, he reasoned, marvelling.
With a pronged implement that they had giv-
en him, he set to work to mash the food into as
soft a mass as possible. This process they ac-
complished easily with their fangs, he knew.
The taste was anything but pleasing, and he
had great difficulty in swallowing; but he finally
managed to assuage his hunger, and felt better.
He drank a little water from the cup, which
contained enough to supply him for at least five
days.
This done, he stretched himself out upon the
bed, and gave himself over to pleasant reflection.
A far cry, he thought, from the man lying help-
less in the desert, devoid of all hope, to the one
who had established contact with a race of in-
telligent beings who would doubtless be willing
to help him return to his own native world. He
reflected that if the flying ship had hot happened
to come near him, he would most certainly have
perished by now — perished in a foreign world,
far away from those he loved, never knowing
there was a chance for his salvation. But now
he had taken the first step .... Anything was
possible now.
His attention returned to his surroundings.
The bare room was lighted by a bulb hanging
from wires in the center. From it dangled a
cord, the purpose of which he quickly guessed.
The walls and floor were bare wood, and rough.
Along the whole length of one wall extended
a low, narrow table, or bench, strewn with a mis-
cellaneous collection of objects which aroused
his curiosity.
He crawled to the bench, and pulled himself
erect by grasping its edge. He was just tall
enough to see along its surface. Near him rested
a large roll of what he first thought was cord;
but on closer examination he decided that it was
metal wire covered with a fibre insulation. Ob-
viously it was for the conduction of electricity.
Scattered around it were a number of cylinders
of varying sizes,- which he saw were wound
closely with very fine wires. Clearly, these
people did more with electricity than make light,
he thought, encouraged.
T here was nothing else in the room except
a pile of rusty metal in one corner. The
whole place was depressingly dirty and dreary.’
He thought that he would feel better without the
light. He made his way to the center of the
room, and stretched upwards. Finding that he
could just reach the cord, he jerked it; and re-
turned in the darkness to his cot.
He lay there quietly, trying to calm his nerves.
He wondered what they would do with him ....
He was still wondering the same thing at the
end of four days. They did not move him. They
did nothing except come and look at him — a
great many of them at first, but less and less
as time went on. They came in the daytime —
never at night. They fed him; and a few still
fried to talk to him. This pleased him, and he
strove eagerly to understand and imitate; but
they soon got tired and stopped.
He learned to distinguish the males and fe-
males among the people that came, by differences
in stature, length of hair, and clothing. He ob-
served, with complete bewilderment, that the
males often carried in their hands burning cyl-
inders which they raised regularly to their
mouths, blowing out smoke into the air. He
guessed, finally, that this must be some sort of
sanitary precaution.
Now, however, he was left alone most of the
time. They brought him food, and then went
away. He was uneasy. Physically, he felt far
from well. The damp air made his throat and
chest ache; and he feared that the long depriva-
tion of sunlight was hurting him. He could not
understand.
Gathering his courage one day, he attempted
to open the door. He reached up and turned the
knob the way he had seen the people do. But it
would not move when he pushed. He remembered
the clicking sound he had heard every time after
they went out.
He became frightened. He did not understand
this confinement. Why would they not let him
out?
There passed another day, of mental torture.
Would they let him die in this dark, dreary
place? Had all his efforts merely led to a
lonely, purposeless death?
THE MARTIAN
277
He wondered what they would do if he went
out of his own accord; and finally decided that
he must do it, even at the risk of offending them.
Further inactivity he could not bear.
Within five minutes he had formed a plan of
action. It was night — the best time to work;
for he must work undisturbed for a time.
He made his way to the bench, and collected
three of the wound wire coils, which he dropped
to the floor. With a cutting tool that he found
he managed to get a length of wire from the
large roll. The tool was very heavy.
Next, he crawled to the corner, and selected
a number of small pieces of metal. He rested
for a while, studying the light bulb which hung
in the center of the room. From the light it
gave and the size of the filament, he roughly esti-
mated the power of the current.
Then, with a graphite writing instrument that
he had found, he drew a diagram on the floor.
He took a very long time doing this, and labeled
it carefully. When he had finished, the little
window at the end of the room showed that dawn
was breaking outside.
Hurriedly then, he set to work with the metal,
the coils, and the wire, — ^twisting, winding, con-
necting and cross-connecting — constantly glanc-
ing at his diagram and at the window. Finally,
when it was broad daylight outside, he gave a
sigh of satisfaction.
He had achieved an ugly, jumbled apparatus,
vaguely cylindrical in shape with a point of metal
at one end. He laid it on the floor; and making
his way to the bench, secured two more lengths
of wire. He crawled under the bench to where
the power line for the light ran down the wall,
and there connected them. Then, securing his cup
of water, he dipped into it the ends of his two
wires, and observed them for a moment. Satis-
fied, he carried them to his cylindrical apparatus,
and connected one of them at the end opposite
the metal point. The other he did not immedi-
ately connect.
CHAPTER IV.
The Circus
H e was breathing hard now, and his face was
flushed. For a long time he sat very still
and listened, but he heard no sound. At last,
moving very slowly, he ^carried his cylinder to
the door. He raised it, and placed fhe point
against the metal lock, under the knob. He
pressed his lips tightly together, and set his
jaw With the end of the wire which he
had not connected he touched a point on the
cylinder.
There was no sound. There was no movement
of the cylinder. Yet the metal lock dissolved, and
daylight shot through the place where it had
been. A cloud of light grey dust drifted lazily
to the floor.
He disconnected the wires. Carefully he hid
the thing under the cushions of his bed. Then he
pushed open the door, and crawled out into the
sunlight. The sun felt warm and pleasant on his
back.
He heard a cry, and looked up fearfully. One
of the men of Toon was running towards him
carrying a dish. It was the man that brought his
food.
His throat was tight, and he was trembling.
He knew that this was the supreme moment. He
nodded his head and smiled. He raised one hand,
palm upward.
The man stopped directly in front of him, and
growled — then raised an arm, pointing at the
door of his prison.
He made a little murmuring sound to the man ;
and raising his face to the sun, smiled and
nodded once more. The man pushed him back-
wards with one foot, always pointing at the
door.
He turned, and crawled back into the shed.
Dully he watched the man ; who stood for a long
time staring at the door where the lock had been
— then strode to the pile of metal and picked up
a chain.
He did not move when he felt the chain around
his hody. He closed his eyes, and did not open
them until he heard the door shut. He did not
move all that day. He only watched the little
window. When, finally, the little window grew
black, he drew his machine from under the cush-
ions, and connected it again at the wall. The
chain was fastened to a leg of the bench, and
allowed him to do this. He destroyed a portion
of the chain, and loosened it from his body. He
crawled to the wall farthest from the house
where the people lived. Moving the machine in
a slow arc, he cut a hole in the wall. Disconnect-
ing the wires, he used them to fasten the ma-
chine around his waist. Then he went out into
the night.
He did not know where he was going — except
that he was going away from these beings that
held him prisoner without a reason. At first they
had seemed kind — but they were kind no longer.
Something had changed them, he thought; but
he could not guess what ....
He had progressed less than a hundred yards
when a sudden tumult of sound froze him with
terror. It was coming at him through the dark,
a hoarse, senseless, animal cry. And bounding
toward him he saw the dark shadow of a beast.
He knew instinctively that here was an unreas-
oning creature — and all the strength went out of
him. He lay flat and limp on his face. Now he
heard its panting breath, and felt the heat of it
on his body ....
At the same time, but only semi-consciously, he
heard the loud shouts of men. As in a dream, he
felt himself grasped roughly and lifted from the
ground. Soon he knew that he was back in the
shed again. He saw a man standing above him
holding his machine.
He felt strangely detached — as if he were
not there at all. He saw the man look at the
machine; look at the door; look at the chain;
look at the hole in the wall; look at the light
cord. He saw the man connecting his machine to
the light cord ; he felt powerless to warn the man
that he might be connecting it wrong — that there
were two ways: one right, one wrong ....
An explosion threw the man heavily against
278
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
the wall. He could see the man struggling slowly
up — coming towards him — kicking him. But he
could hardly feel the kick at all — and everything
got dark ....
When light came back it was just a small
square above him. That puzzled him, until he
reached out and found wooden walls all around
him — very close. He was in a box. He became
suddenly fully conscious of the fact. Looking
down at him from above he saw the faces of two
of the men of Toon.
He cried out involuntarily, struggling to es-
cape. One of the creatures shook a heavy piece
of metal threateningly over his head. He cowered
down, shuddering, at sight of the merciless gleam
in its eyes. The light was blotted out, as they
placed a cover over him; and he was deafened
by a long and thunderous pounding.
Then began a time of horror in the darkness.
His active mind had nothing to feed upon but
fear. Only too clearly was it brought to him that
he did not know the ways of these creatures of
Toon. What was deadly fear to him m,ight be
commonplace to them. He had hop^ to find them
friendly, merciful — yet friendship and mercy
were qualities of his own experience in a world
different from theirs. Why had he thought to
find them here?
H e had no measure of time. For endless hours
he lay there in the dark, bracing himself
against the sides to protect his head and body
as much as possible ; for the box seemed almost
constantly in motion — jolting, tilting, and bump-
ing until he was weak and breathless from the
strain.
His mind, worn out by its relentless self-tor-
ture, sank at last to semi-consciousness.
Suddenly light returned, and he was dragged
roughly from his prison. He was in a large room
where the combination of odor, heat, and noise
was overpowering. Great numbers of the men
of Toon were there, hurrying in all directions,
seemingly very busy. He noted immediately that
their clothing was different from that which he
had seen, and wondered what the significance of
that might be. .... He felt strangely calm,
now.
Before him was an immense, bulky man, who
stood with legs apart and arms fold^, staring
at him with wide, unwinking eyes. This man had
a face that was light red in color and rounded,
almost swollen-looking in shape. He nodded, and
his cheeks shook loosely. He nodded several
times, and seemed very pleased. He spoke sharp-
ly; and others, standing around, sprang into
action.
They brought a red cloth, and tied it around
the captive’s loins. They forced him to crawl back
and forth on the floor, while the big man looked
on, nodding and chuckling. Then the big man
ran hot, cushion-like hands over his head and
body; pried open his mouth; grasped his hand
and shook it vigorously up and down; and, with
a final nod, turned and walked away.
He understood none of this, and was very
unhappy.
They placed him upon a high, draped plat-
form, where there was a small chair and nothing
else. There were a number of similar platforms
in the room.
It was impossible for him to maintain his pre-
vious indifference to his surroundings. Around
the walls of the room were long rows of barred
enclosures, containing creatures of every con-
ceivable size, shape, and color. Some were hid-
eous ; some were ^rangely beautiful ; all were ab-
sorbingly interesting. For a time, he forgot
everything else while he watched them and lis-
tened to the sounds that they made. Certainly,
he thought, a scientist of the Loten would give
twenty years of his life for the opportunity to
see these creatures 1 Some of them were amaz-
ingly like reconstructions that had been made
from fossilized bones found on the Loten.
They brought him food, which he judged must
be the cooked seeds of grain. It was soft, and
he forced himself to eat a little, although he
was not hungry. He feared that he would have
to learn to eat daily, for food concentrates
seemed to be unknown here.
His mind was occupied trying to understand
the meaning of this place. Great numbers of
people were crowding into the room, now. Bows
of them stood around his platform.
The other platforms were now occupied also.
On them were beings resembling the people
around them, but each one differing in some
strange way from the normal. Some were enor-
mously large, some small. And he saw one which
was shaped like the men of Toon, yet was no
taller than himself.
An endless stream of people surged through
the room, circulating around the platforms and
cages — gazing fixedly at their occupants.
He began to understand. These were exhibits
— creatures strange to the crowds who came to
look at them. Toon was very large; and trans-
portation methods were poorly developed. Per-
haps, therefore, these people had never seen
many of the parts of their own globe.
Their staring eyes made him uncomfortable.
Wherever he looked they were — staring eyes and
gaping mouths. He felt suddenly ashamed. He
wanted t6 hide himself — but they would not let
him do that, he knew. How long would they
keep him here, he wondered? There seemed to
be no limit to the crowds. This must be a great
center of population . . .
And in a flash he had forgotten the people,
with their staring eyes, forgotten his shame, for-
gotten his bodily discomfort ... A center of
population! Those words blazed in his mind.
Once more, he knew the joy of hope.
With a sudden clear perception he realized
that they could not have helped him more if they
had done it consciously. He had arrived at a
goal, which, a few days ago, had seemed impossi-
ble of attainment. Here, if anywhere, he would
find help . . .
He must learn the language. That was im-
perative . . . And again his good fortune
amazed him. These people were constantly talk-
ing. His position was ideal for studying their
speech. iSrom what he already knew, it was
THE MARTIAN
279
quite simple ; and it should not take long to learn
enough to serve his purpose.
I T took longer than he had expected, mainly
because the people were not there all of the
time. They came only at certain periods of the
day; and he soon made a surprising discovery —
that they slept during a great part of every
night. In fact, almost one third of their time
seemed to be spent in an unconscious state. The
creatures in the cages slept even more. He could
see no signs of intelligence in these caged crea-
tures. They were dumb, and were completely
dominated by the men.
He missed the sun badly. These people, in
their dark houses and their draped bodies, did
not seem to need it. Often he felt quite ill, but
tried not to worry about his health.
At night, when alone, he practiced the sounds
he had learned ; and rehearsed the things he was
going to say when his chance came.
He passed through a sleep period; and then,
on the ninth day, decided that he was ready. To
the attendant who brought his food he said:
“I talk.”
The man started violently, and gaped at him.
“Talk?” he repeated blankly.
“Yes!”
The attendant looked at him uncertainly for a
long time, and then walked slowly away.
He was disappointed. But he was not kept "
waiting long. Soon the man returned, accom-
panied by another. !
“Blumberg wants to see you,” they said. He
did not understand that, and shook his head.
However, they lifted him from his platform, and
carried him out of the room. They took him up
a long series of steps and through dark corri-
dors, into a small room.
Here it was cool and light. In the center was
a desk, and behind it sat the large man he had
seen once before,
“Set him on the desk here,” ordered the large
man. “Now, little feller — they tell me you’re
talking!”
“I talk.”
“Well, well, welll” said the large man jovial-
ly. “What’ll we talk about? . . . I’m Blumberg,
and I run this circus . . . Who are you?”
He understood only the last words, but they
were what he was waiting for.
“I am man of Loten,” he said carefully. “Lo-
ten is world more far from heat star.”
“What? Say that again!”
“I not live in your world — in this world . . .”
“The hell you don’t.”
Again he did not understand what the large
man meant, and looked around helplessly. Then
he saw a writing instrument on the desk, and
picked it up. Blumberg pushed forward a piece
of white paper. Quickly he drew, in its center, a
large circle with lines extending from its cir-
cumference to indicate radiation. Outside it he
drew four small circles at varying distances from
the central one.
“Hey, Edgar — come here!” called Blumberg.
A pale young man who had been sitting in a
corner approached the desk, saying, “Yes?”
He looked pleadingly at the pale young man.
He placed his fingertip on the large circle, and
said, “Heat star!”
“Sun,” said the young man quickly.
“Sun!” he repeated gratefully. Next he indi-
cated the third little circle from the center.
“This world?” he said.
“Earth,” said the young man.
“Earth? This world is Earth?”
“Yes.”
Blumberg grumbled: “What is this — a joke?”
He could not understand Blumberg. Eagerly
he looked into the face of the pale young man,
and indicated the fourth little circle.
“Mars,” said Edgar.
“Mars!” he cried jubilantly. He pointed his
finger at himself. “I am man of Mars,” he said.
There was silence in the room, while they both
stared at him. Then the big man began to
laugh. His body shook, and his red cheeks
jumped up and down.
“So you are a Martian — eh?”
“Yes — a Martian.”
Blumberg was still laughing. “That oughta
go big in the show — huh, Edgar?” he said.
“Yes, sir,” said the young man.
“If you live on Mars, what’re you doing here?”
The Martian had been expecting this question.
“They send me away to Earth.”
“Why did they send you away to Earth?”
CHAPTER V.
Blumberg Promises
T he Martian began to speak slowly, careful-
ly, Through long days and nights he had
rehearsed his story, knowing he would have to
tell it. The pale young man helped him often,
at points where he lacked words . . .
He told of the scarcity of water on Mars — of
how there was only a little, that had to be pre-
served carefully.
Here Blumberg interrupted. “How much wa-
ter has this chap been drinking?”
“Less than a cup, sir — in almost ten days,”
said Edgar. “The attendant was telling me . . ”
Blumberg grunted. “Go on!” he said.
He told of the social order of Mars — of the
three great classes: the Aristocrats, the Scien-
tists, and the Workers. The Aristocrats, he ex-
plained, were the rulers, who utilized the knowl-
edge of the Scientists and the energy of the
Workers to build up a State for themselves.
He told how, once a year, the water rushed
down the canals from the melting polar ice caps,
spreading vegetation over the face of the planet,
and of how quickly this precious water disap-
peared, evaporated by the ever-shining sun, un-
til there was none left for the thirsty plants, and
they died. Thus, every year the famine was
worse on Mars, and more Workers died.
He told how he, and other Scientists, had
wanted to spread oil on the canals to stop evap-
oration, and of how the Aristocrats had forbid-
den them to do it.
He told of the plan he had conceived to con-
trol the waters at the head of the canals when
280
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
the ice melted in the spring, so as to force the
Aristocrats to come to terms.
And finally, he told of their premature dis-
covery of his plan; of their great anger and fear;
of their determination to punish him as no man
had ever been punished before; of his banish-
ment from the very world in which he lived.
There was a long silence when he had finished.
At last Blumberg coughed, and shook himself.
“That’s a fine story,” he grumbled, “but you
left somethin’ out . . . What I wanta know is:
how did you get hereV
“In a space traveller,” said the Martian.
“What’s that?”
Carefully, laboriously, he described the space
ship. With the pencil he sketched diagram after
diagram, while the pale young man helped him-
and labeled them as he directed. The young
man was becoming visibly excited. When the
Martian had finished, he burst out :
“By god, it would — it ivould do it ! . . . Look — ”
“Shut up I” said Blumberg, The perspiration
was standing out in large beads on his forehead.
“Fellow,” he said heavily, “if you’re lying,
you’ve got one hell of an imagination!”
“You not have space travellers?” asked the
Martian tensely.
“No . . Just ships that travel in air,” an-
swered the pale young man. He heard the other’s
painful catch of breath, and continued quickly:
“But with these diagrams it would be easy to — ”
“Shut up, Edgar . . , Shut up — an’ get outta
here!” barked the big man. The other turned,
and left the room without a word.
“Now, look here, fellow,” said Blumberg, “I’m
goin’ to take your word for it. I’m probably
crazy to believe you; but I’ve seen most of the
funny critters of this world in my time, an’ I
ain’t ever seen one like you. So you may come
from Mars, for all I know.”
The other looked at him eagerly, trying to un-
derstand his words. “You think I am man of
Lo — of Mars?”
“Y^s — ^that’s right.”
The Martian quivered with excitement. He
held out his arms in a gesture of appeal.
“You help me . . .?”
“Yes.”
“You help me go to Mars?”
Blumberg looked down at the desktop, and was
silent.
“Yes. I’ll help you,” said Blumberg suddenly.
He stood up, and patted the other softly on the
head . . . “Sure . . . you bet!”
T he Martian lay upon his back on a leather
couch in a small room where they had
taken him. His eyes were wide and shining. His
hands clenched and opened convulsively. It
seemed to him that he had been waiting for days.
The door opened, and Blumberg entered, fol-
lowed by a smaller man. As the Martian strug-
gled to his knees to greet him, he spoke heartily.
“Hello there! Think I wasn’t cornin’? No use
being in too much of a Hurry, y’know . . . Meet
Dr. Smith. He’s a scientist like you ...”
The Martian nodded and smiled at them hap-
pily. Dr. Smith looked at him long and curious-
ly, meanwhile automatically seating himself in a
chair close to the couch. Blumberg, who was
pacing the room, cleared his throat.
“Now, look here,” he said, “I’m willing to
help you, but you’ve got to help me do it . . . — ”
The Martian understood him immediately.
“Yes!” he replied quickly. “Yes.”
“Good! . . . Now, Dr. Smith is going to ask
you questions about things we need to know.
You tell him all you can.”
“Yes ... I tell him!”
Dr. Smith had many questions to ask, on many
and diverse subjects. At first, communication
between the two was very difficult; but both
were highly intelligent and understanding men,
and before long they became fairly successful in
exchanging ideas. Blumberg paced constantly
about the room. Occasionally he went out, but
always returned quickly.
The catechism went on for hours; and ended
only to be resumed early the next day.
And so it continued on the following day, and
on the day after. The Martian was puzzled.
They seemed to want to know so many things!
Dr. Smith had questioned him on every subject-
mechanics, electricity, magnetism, chemistry, col-
loids, catalysts, transmutation of metals — every-
thing. He feared that they were wasting time,
but did not think it proper to object when they
were going to so much trouble on his account
Nevertheless, he could not help worrying; and
that night, when the pale young man brought him
his food, he asked timidly :
“Do they make the ship . . . ?”
The pale young man looked at the floor, bit-
ing his lips. Then he went to the door, opened-
it, and looked out into the hall. He closed the
door softly, and came near the couch. He looked
straight into the Martian’s eyes.
“There is no ship!”
“No ship?”
“No.” The young man was flushed and angry.
He spoke very fast: “That fat crook is not help-
ing ‘you . . . But you are helping him — you
bet . . .!”
“Does — does he not think — think I am the
Martian . . . ?”
“Oh, he thinks you’re a Martian, all right! He
knows you are. He’s taking out patents al-
ready.”
The other shook his head uncomprehendingly.
“Don’t you see it? Where you come from they
know things that they never even imagined here.
You got knowledge in your head worth millions'
of dollars; I mean, you have facts which are of
great value to Blumberg. Why, already you’ve
told him to make gold out of lead — something
very precious from something worthless. And a
hundred other things besides.
“He does not care about you; he cares about
your knowledge ... Do you see?”
“Yes.”
The young man’s anger suddenly abated, and'
he glanced fearfully at the door. J
“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly, “but somebod'j|
had to tell you. You won’t get any help here!'^
He turned, and almost ran from the room.
THE MARTIAN
281
T he Martian sat perfectly still for a long
time. Then he climbed down from the couch,
and crawled to the door. He reached up and
grasped the knob. The young man had left it
unlocked, and in a moment he was in the dim
hallway. He crawled along, keeping close to the
wall, until he came to the top of a stairway.
He felt the cool night air on his face. Very
slowly he lowered himself down the steps. He
came to a wide door leading out into the open.
Seated in a chair by this doorway was a man,
whistling. The Martian waited patiently in the
shadows until the man stood up, yawned, and
strolled away.
Outside, there were high, dark buildings all
around him. He found himself in a narrow can-
yon running between them. He crawled down
this canyon to the right, close against the build-
ings. The paving beneath him was hard, and
hurt his knees. But he did not stop.
Someone was walking towards him. He could
not escape being seen. He was near a large light
on a pole. He raised his hand in a gesture of
greeting . . .
It was a woman. Suddenly she saw him, and
gasped. Then she screamed — piercingly. The
sound echoed and re-echoed between the high
walla of the buildings.
Windows and doors banged. Footsteps pound-
ed on the pavement. Soon there were many
people around him. Some of them were holding
the woman. She hung limply in their arms.
A man strode into the group, swinging a club,
and speaking authoritatively:
“Here! What’s the trouble? Move on there!”
He glanced at the woman. “Fainted? Take her
to a drug store, somebody. She’ll be all right . . .
What’s this?” He grasped the Martian by the
arm, and raised him to the light , . . “W^ell,
I’m damned!”
Followed by the curious crowd, he half car-
ried, half dragged his captive along the street,
around a corner, and through a lighted door-
way. He slammed the door shut.
“Found a freak, Yer Honor . . . Scared a wo-
man half to death!” It musta got outa the ‘Gar-
den’; I found it on Forty-ninth Street ...”
The man seated behind the high desk nodded,
and picked up a telephone. Into this he spoke
in a low voice, waited, and then spoke again.
Finally he laid it down, and said, “He is coming
over. Hold on to it.” He resumed his writing.
The Martian watched the man writing on the
high desk. He thought that this man must be
some person of authority — some ruler of the
people, perhaps. After long and painful uncer-
tainty, he nerved himself to speak:
“Please help me ... ”
The man behind the desk looked up and
smiled. “Yes. That is what we are here for . . .
Only be patient,” he said, and returned to his
writing.
The Martian remained quiet. He would not
dare disturb the man again, but he kept watch-
ing him . . .
“Good morning. Your Honor!”
At the sound of the voice, he gave a start of
THE
surprise and fear. Blumberg walked towards
him, smiling. He struggled, and averted his
eyes. But his captor held him tightly. Blum-
berg patted him on the head with his large, soft
hand. He trembled.
“One of yours?” said the man behind the high
desk. “What is the trouble with him? He
seems distressed.”
Blumberg smiled at the other, and tapped his
own head three times with his fingertip. The
other raised his eyebrows.
“Tell the Judge about yourself,” said Blum-
berg softly. “He is a great man, and he can
help you.”
The Martian was surprised that Blumberg
would allow him to speak. He made a desperate
effort :
“I am a native of Mars. Please, I must return
home. Please help me . . . I — ”
“See!” said Blumberg. He was laughing.
The Judge nodded. “Can you handle him?”
he asked.
“Sure! They get along better with me than
in — other places. I know how to treat ’em; and
they make a good living.”
“All right,” said the Judge. “Take him along.
But don’t let me catch him running around the
streets again, or you might rate a fine.”
“Don’t worry! We’re going on the road in a
couple of days now. You won’t see him again
. . . Well, good morning to you!”
“Good morning!” said the Judge.
The Martian lay, face down, on the leather
couch. Over him stood Blumberg, breathing
hard. With a light cane that he carried he
struck the Martian sharply on his frail back.
“Don’t try it again, or you’ll get more of that!”
he said softly.
The Martian did not move or utter a sound un-
til he heard the door slam. Then he made his
way to the table; and, grasping the edge, pulled
himself erect. There was something on the table
that he wanted . . .
The door opened softly, and the pale young
man came in.
“You should not have tried it,” he whispered.
The Martian pointed to the window. Over the
top of a building lower than its neighbors a
small, square patch of sky was visible, and in
this patch a few stars twinkled faintly.
“Is Mars there?” he asked.
The young man was silent for a moment, look-
ing at the floor and biting his lips. Then:
“Yes,” he said. “As it happens, it is. Mars
is the brightest of those stars, and the topmost.”
"Thank you,” said the Martian. “You have
been very kind to me!”
The pale young man looked at him, and at the
table. Then he turned, without a word, and
left the room.
The Martian did not take his eyes from the lit-
tle point of light. But one of his hands reached
over the table, and grasped a knife which lay
there. His eyes still on Loten — his home, he
plunged the knife into his heart. And the little
point of light, while he fixedly watched it, flick-
ered — and died,
END.
282
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
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WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
285
The Reader Speaks
In WONDER STORIES QUAR-
TERLY only letters that refer to
stories published in the QUAR-
TERLY will be printed.
Would Cheat Destiny
-Sditor, Wonder Stories Quarterly;
V The story, “The Machine of Destiny’’
ny U. G. Mihalakis aroused a great
deal of interest among friends of mine,
all renders of science fiction. The con-
nection is indirect but nevertheless s
perplexing thought.
In his story, Mr. Mihalakis gives the
impression that “destiny’’ is a daunt-
less thing. Perhaps it may be, looking
at it from one angle; you cannot
change the time of your death. Would
it not be possible though to cheat
destiny? As an example; you are per-
haps destined to die at 2:00 p. m. July
1. 'Two or three days before this time
you travel by a time vehicle to a dis-
tant point in the past and fate is
thwarted. Truly you would become
immortal.
But if you went into future time
instead, would you not die just as you
passed the point of time at which your
demise was decreed? Because of the
reasons in the above statement, I be-
lieve traveling into future time to be
impossible. Am I right?
Louis C. Smith,
1908 98th Ave.,
Oakland, Calif.
(Mr. Smith assumes that time trav-
el may be impossible because the idea
of it leads to inconsistencies and ab-
surdities. But perhaps our primary
reasoning is wrong. Scientists be-
lieved that many theories were absurd
because when analyzed they were
found to be contrary to the Law of
Conservation of Energy. But now it
is being discovered that the Law of
Conservation of Elnergy may not
always operate. So it may be with
some of the queer tricks that time
travel would play. — Editor)
From Nature’s Sketchbook
Editor, Wonder Stories Quarterly:
Have just purchased your latest
Wonder Stories Quarterly. I wish
to give you my opinion on the story
entitled, “Zina the Killer.” Being ever
interested in your magazine of the fu-
ture, and its daring and interesting
strain, 1 cannot do anything but wish
you a great success to your publica-
tion. I am happy to say that I am a
regular reader to all your magazines.
Being something of a free-lance writ-
er myself I’ll say that the story print-
ed called “Zina the Killer” was very
good, “a good drawing from nature’s
sketch book” as you say in your maga-
zine. But the story does not belong
in the same magazine.
George Marin, Jr.,
c-o A. II. Renshaw,
Newton, Conn.
(Although not an interplanetary story,
naturally, we believed “Zina” to be
a little filler that would be something
different from the regular diet. As a
matter of fact, we had two pages open,
and as yet have found no interplane-
tary story that could fit into 2,000
words. On the whole the readers liked
the little “sketch.” — Editor)
They Run to Tragedy
Editor, Woruler Stories Quarterly;
I have just concluded the last story
in the fall issue of the Quarterly
and have a few comments to make.
“The Cosmic Cloud” deals with a
realistic problem which the world may
well have faced in the past and may
face again in the future. The story
falls short of offering a solution to the
problem, and would well deserve a
sequel for that purpose. Being Ger-
man myself I suppose I should appre-
ciate the German t^e of story, but it
seems to me that German science fic-
tion authors rather run to tragedy.
First the “Shot into Infinity” ended
in death for the heroine; next its
sequel, “The Stone from the Moon,”
with its insanity of the South Ameri-
can heroine; and now Mr. Burgel ruth-
lessly slaughters his characters whole-
sale with cosmic forces and disap-
pointment in love (or should the lat-
ter be included in cosmic forces?). It
is to be presumed that the author
chose the lesser of two evils and sent
his hero to his death rather than allow
him to forget his promises to Miss
Hawthorn in the arms of the daughter
of the Nile.
Neil R. Jones is to be complimented
on his “Asteroid of Death.” The ac-
tion in this story would, in the hands
of some authors, be spread over twice
as much space without adding to its
narrative value.
“The Man-Beast of Toree” has just
enough philosophy in it to save it from
being merely another “biological hor-
ror” story — of which there are legion.
“The Derelict of Space” is a splen-
did proof of the value of the Inter-
planetary Plot Contest. This contest
deserves to be continued. It gets the
man with the idea but without the
words to express it into partnership
with experienced authors who doubt-'
less are cudgeling their brains for
plots. This will enrich science fiction
literature.
“The Planet Entity” is almost bib-
lical. Thousands of interplanetary
“arks” save the faithful from the
“flood” of destruction which dooms a
world full of unbelievers who would
not heed the words of “Noah” Gail-
lard.
“The Struggle for Pallas” is not as
good as “Vandals of the Void,” chiefly
because it is shorter. It is scarcely
fair to compare short stories with the
long.
L. E. Foltz, M. D.
Brownsburg, Ind.
(Dr. Foltz mentions an interesting
point, in showing that German authors,
even of science fiction, tend to run
to tragic endings for their stories. We
in America, saturated with happy-end-
ing moving pictures, cannot seem to
get away from the conquering hero
always embracing the heroine, after
his great exploit, in the final fadeout.
It is possibly true that the Germans
are often too tragic, just as the Amer-
icans are too optimistic about the way
events turn out. We do caution our
writers to be realistic; and if the odds
against the hero are so enormous that
he cannot possibly conquer them, then
the story should be honest about it. —
Editor)
(Continuca on page 286)
The Greateet Sin of all i.s total IGNORANCE
of the most important eubject in the life of
every man and woman — SEX.
Away With False Modesty!
Let US face the facts of eex fcarleasly emd
frankly, sincerely and Hcientifically. Let ue
tear the veil of shame and mystery from sex
and build the future of the race on a new
knowledge of all the facta of sex as they are
laid bare in plain, daring but wholesome words,
and frank pictures in the huge now library of
Sex Knowledge.
‘^MODERN EUGENICS”
^SECRETS
Everything a
Married Woman
Should Know —
How to hold a husband
How to have perfect chil-
dren
How to preserve youth
Warding cfT other women
Keeping yourself altrac-
tlvo
VtTiy husbands tire of
wives
Dreadful diseases duu to
ignorance
Diseaaofl of women
Babies and birth control
Twilight' sleep—esay
childbirth
How babies arc con-
ceived
Dlseaao of children
Family health guide
Change of life — hygiene
Why children die young
Inherited trails and dis-
eases
Wltat will jMu tell your
growing girl?
The mystery of twins
Hundreds or viilualde
remedies
Secrets for Men—
Mist.iko.s uf fftrly mar-
riages
Secrota of rabclnttllon
Joys of perfect malini'
How to make women lovo
you
Bringing up hoalthy
children
Fevers an<l corUa»rlous
diseases
Accidents and emerRi-n-
cica
Ilygiejie in tlie home
Llinitalion of olT^iirini;
The sexual embrace
WnniinR (o young men
Secrets of greater delight
Dangerous diseases
Becrets of cei attraction
Hygienic precautions
Anatomy and physiology
The reproductive organs
What every woman wants
Education of the family
6ei health and prevention
GirU —
DonU Marry
before you kr>ow all
this —
The dangers of petting
How to he a vamp
Uerw to manage the
honeymoon
What llhertlCH to allow a
lover
Bccrctrt of the wedding
night
Itouuiy diets and baih.'«
Do you know —
How U) attnict desirable
men
How to manage im-n
How to know If lio loves
you
How to acQiilro bodily
graco ;ind tM-tiuty
How to Ijeauflfy fare,
hands, hair, teeth and
feet
IIow to acquire (harm
How lo drcKS atlrartitoly
Intimate personal hygiene
How to jdek a husband
[
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286
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By GARRET SMITH
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THE READER SPEAKS
(Continued from page 285)
Would Find the Earth Under
Them
Editor, Wonder Stories Quarterly;
In the “Derelict of Space” by W.
Thurmond and Ray Cummings there
seems to be an obvious fallacy. The
ship of doom is supposed to travel to
the place_ where the earth and solar
system will be fifty years hence. But
if they have really travelled through
time fifty years, they would find the
earth under them, because the earth
together with the solar system would
have moved to occupy the position
where the ship of doom is fifty years
in the future.
It would seem therefore to the trav-
elers as though they are in exactly the
same position on earth. The only
means by which the ship of doom could
reach a point in space ahead of the
earth which would take the earth fifty
years to reach would be by traveling
through space. If, as in the story, it
took only a week for the ship of doom
to reach a point in space which the
earth would reach in fifty years, it
would have to tyavel about 3 54 times
the speedy of light. The story was
good in spite of this criticism.
I beheve that “The Planet Entity”
by E. M. Johnston and C. A. Smith
had a better plot and should have re-
ceived first prize. The magazine on
the whole was very good with excel-
lent stories.
Jack Cypin,
1271 Hoe Ave.,
Bronx, N. Y.
(Mr. Cypin does pose an interesting
objection to “Derelicts of Space" and
we would like to invite further con-
troversy on this. We welcome the con-
troversy, for it seems to us, that
Wonder Stories and Wonder Stories
Quarterly are building up a body of
readers who are becoming experts on
the time traveling question. — Editor)
A Sexual Dream
Editor, Wonder Stories Quarterly:
You are not correct in your reply
to H. M. Wallace of Detroit when in
answer to his criticism of “The Scar-
let Planet” you say, “the author was
not elaborating on his own feelings,
when he intruded the sexual element
. . . the spokesman of the author
would seem to be the corporal . . .” etc.
All students of neurasthenia can
easily see the revelation of a super-
sexual mind in this story. The traits
are common and mental turnings far
from unusual. It is quite common for
such super-sensual complexes to be
held by victims who are physically not
at all sexually abnormally competent.
But always the mind expresses itself
in the same way. Always it is the
slave of the subconscious, and the sub-
conscious is not originaL There is
always the same endless amorous ad-
ventures all j'ust thwarted at the last
moment — as when the grirls proved
to be vampires, or the one who wasn't
a vampire was encased in a crystal
sphere. This is the same as oUr dreams
when a desirable object is porsued
and suddenly changes its form; or the
supposed privacy is invaded by the
sudden appearance of others.
Another common trait of the snb-
conscious is to attempt to justly all
such sexual extravagances or else to
present a counteracting influence such
as friend corporaL
Mr. Wallace, if somewhat crude, was
fundamentally right. The “S<^et
Planet” was the presentation in print
of what is commonly known as a sex
dream.
Vie Filmer,
6 Wheatlands Road,
S. W. 17, London. Eng.
(In questions of physical fact, there
should be little dispute as to who Is
right, a proof should be possible. But
in the question at issue, where an at-
tempt is made to probe a writer’s n^
tives, the answer is a matter of opin-
ion; and Mr. Filmer is entitled to his.
His exposition is quite interesting.
No doubt quite a number of our au-,
thors write of adventures in order to'
satisfy subconscious longings of their {
own. But the science of psychology
is still too young to give definite and
ironclad answers to just what has tak-
en place in the author’s mind. — Editor),
STATEMENT OF THE OWNERSHIP. MANA6EMENT.
CIRCULATION. ETC., REQUIRED BY THE ACT
OF CONQREBB OF AUGUST 24, IBIS,
Of Wonder Stories Qusrtwiy published 4 times
Bt 404 No. Wesley Are.* UL Morrls« IIL» ttjt fScUh ■
ber 1, 1931.
State of New T(^ \
County of Bronx f
Before me, b Notary Public In and for the Btsto and
county aforesaid, personally appeared Irrlng B. Maa-
helmer. who, having been duly sworn acconUng to law.
deposes and says that be is the Buslnees Manager or
the Wonder Stories Quarterly, and that the following U,
to the best of his knowledge and belief, a true atat*>
ment of the ownership, management (and If b daily
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lisher. Stellar Publishing Corp., 404 No. Wesl^ Afe.«
Mt. Morris, 111. ; Editor, Hugo Gemsback, OB Park
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IBYING B. MANHEIMEB,
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Sworn to and subseribed before me this 24(h day af
September, 1961.
,,, . [Seal] MAUBICB COTNB.
(My commission expires March 80, 1982.)
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Only $6.25
Double Aotlon Revolver,
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287
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We herewith present to the readers of this magazine, the most com-
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best books of their kind in print today. There is such a great vaKety
that we are sure you will find many to answer your requirements.
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Ford Model “A” Car,
Includinii Model
“AA” Truck
By V. W. Poffo. New edition
vised up to litdl. the new
Fortl inside and out. construction,
operation and repairs. Every part
decTtbcd and nil repair prove«i>es
explained and ilhistiute<l by 31B
•osruv'iuir.H. Special chapters on the
Model AA Trunk, new fow*H|>eed
traDsmissioD, hcvol rlrive, and all
charuccs ol iiinH)rt>mRe in the new
Model A Ford <’ar. 700 paxes.
Price $2.50. (With special 25](36-
inch Ford ”A" Trouble Shootine
Chart. Price $2.75.)
A. B. C. of Gliding
and Sailflying
A brand new )>ook on motorleee
fiying. Kxpluina everything alx>tit
thin popular Hport; all typen ol
Gliders aiul Sailplunefl, uonstruotion,
control and launching; principles ol
eliding, Ftoaring, air ourront^, etc.
Instructions for hiiilding nimple
Glider, with WcmKlNG DRAW-
INGS. IIow to form o Glider Club,
etc. 200 puftes. 70 illuHtratinnA.
Price, Paper Binding, $1.50;
Cloth, $2.00.
Aviation Engine
Examiner
By Major Victor W. Rage. Avia-
tion cnirines ezplaiuetl. Also many
QUoslionM aixl uiiswerA. I'reparee
you for job as aircraft engine
raechanic; valuable to pilots and
students. Duscribes all types avia-
tion oDgines. parts and construction
piinciplos of operaMon. with instruc*
tiooii for engine inspection, installa-
tioQ, trouble Hhootiiig. overhauling
and repair. Compant, oondenned,
siinplihed. 400 pages, 250 illustra-
tions. Price, $3.00.
Everybody’s Aviation
Guide
By Maior Victor W. Page. 600
Qua^tiona and Answers that taaoh
aviation fruui the beginning. Com-
plete information necesAary for U. 8.
Government tioenae. Construction
ol airplanes — parts — fuactlona —
equilibrium — control, etc. 250
pages, 140 illualrations. Price,
$ 2 . 00 .
A. B. C. of Aviation
By Major Victor W. Page. A
clearly written book giving you «
basic knowledge of aircraft, end
why they fly. An ideal book for
everyone approaching study of avia-
tion. 160 pagas. 150 illuatrationii.
Price, $1.00.
Modern Aviation
Engines
By Major Victor W. Page. Most
complete treatise on all types of
aircraft motors ever published.
Describes, explalna. lllustratee every
type of aircraft motor — installa-
tion, repairs, maintenance. Two
great volumes. 1000 pages, 500
iihiAtratlone in each. Vol. 1 eovera
principloA of aviation engines, engine
parts and functions, oons&uotion,
troutile shooting, eto. Vol. 2 gives
detailed deecriptiona of all leading
makesof airplane and airship engines
of today. Price per volume,
$6.00; both volumes, $9.00.
Modern Aircraft
By Major Victor W. Page. Covers
all types of American and foreign
airships, Alrptanenj and engines, de-
sign anil construcuon, with complete
instructione f<>r operation and main-
tenance. Nineteen practical ehap-
tera. Used in 200 schools, 855
pages. 400 IliustTations, 23 tables.
Mce, $5.00.
Modern Diesel Engine
Practice
By Orville Adams. An indispens-
able guide for every Owner and
Operator, covering every basic fact
requbite to a complete understand-
ing of Diesel Kugine Theory and
Operation. This l>ot>k coinbines in
one volume, a text for study and
reference, and a practical manual on
operation and repair. Written by a
recognized authority on Modern
Diesel Engineering. Includes in-
formation on the Motlern Packard
Diesel Aircraft Engine. 600 pages,
400 engravings. Price, $6.00 nek.
House Wiring
By Thoe. W. Poppa. Electrio En-
gineer. Revised, enlarged and
brought up to data by Harold P.
Strand, Mooter Eleccrioian-Con-
tractor. Completa in every detail
and in aooordunoe with the 11)30
National Klectrical (^de. Pro-
fusely Illustrated. Plans and layout
of work in old and new construction
— 1-ocating outlets — Sizes of wire —
Armorerl cable wiring — New type
ABC Cable — Running the cable —
Tasting — Meter board construction
“Grounding — Bell wiring — Burglar
alarm wiring — Telephone wlrilng —
ate., etc. 22.5 pages, 171 lltustra-
tiung. Pocket niza. Price, $1.00.
Electricity for
Beginners
By E. n. Thomas. Just the book
for tliuea beginning study of
Electricity. Written by an ex-
perienxetl instrtictor, and containing
190 pages, fully illustrated. 40
chaptoi'n, including oirnuits, re*
eistance, praesurc, horsepower, kilo-
watt, oiagneto-geUerator, dynamo,
generators and inotore, electriolight,
telegraph, telephuue, electro-plating,
etc. Used in many high sohoola.
Price, $1.50.
Arithmetic of
Electricity
By Prof. T. O'Connor Bloane. Re-
duces all electrical calculations to o
Aories of simple rule.s, ueltig only
common arithtnetio. Every rule
illustrated by practical problems and
detailed solutions. Dom away with
oeod for algebra to understand
electrical mathematics. Everyone
interested in electricity needs this
very practical book. Revised and
enlarged 23rd edition, 230 pages.
Price, $1.50.
Automobile Welding
with the Oxy-Acety-
lene Flame
By M. Keith Dunham. Clearly ez-
plains everything about ozy-aoety-
lene welding for Garage, Service
Stations, Auto owners, blacksmiths,
machine ahoi»s. 167 pages, fully
illustrated. Price, $1.50^
Oxy-Acetylene Weld-
ing and Cutting with
a Treatise on Acety-
lene and Oxygen
By P. P. Willis. A complete work;
written in simple language, fully il-
lustrated with engravings showing
how to prepare the work, as well as
the actual welding of It. Special
chapters treating on Acetylene Ozy
fen Welding and Cutting, Torch
Apparatus and Installation, Prepar-
ing for Welding, Weldingof Different
Metals. Welding of Sheet Metal and
Pipe, Welding of Boll«-s, Welding of
Various Pieoes, Electric Welding,
Automobile and miscellaneous weld-
ing are contained, as well as other
valuable data. 254 pages. Fully
illustrated. Price, $1.50.
A. B. C. of Television
or Seeing by Radio
By Raymond Francis Yates. This
bmk written by an ezpert on the
euojeot is an intennely practical
volume for the practical amateur
who wants to "do thingn" in tele-
vision, or for the serious student who
would keep abreast of the times.
'The "A B C OF TELEVISION’*
contains 210 profusely illustrated
pages. The first ]>ortion throws the
soft light of underritaodmg on the
Bubjeot of the different television
syeteiTLA in use today. In so doing,
it clearly, concisely, and in the
simplest of terms, outlines tha real
fuiidainentals of each system. Tha
problems of Hcaniiiog, amplification
of light modulated signals, pbot<^
electrio and selenium cells, neon
lamps and eynnbronizing appur-
tenaneee are covered in detail.
The book ai>peals to those who wish
to build television reoeivera and
transmitters eitlier for entertain-
ment or research purposes. 210
(0x9) Pages, 78 Engravings. Prico,
$3.00 .
V OL. I
How to Make Worth-
While Models
of a P^ufesque Pirate Felucca and
a Beautiful Spanish Galleon— Iflth,
17th (Jentury.
Doth of these motlels, though dec-
oratively treated, ere correct to
period ond scale. They aie very
colorful and beautiful (or any home.
The method of building tliette motlclH
bas^ been so simplified that they can
Msily be made by any handy person.
Price, $2.50.
VOL. II
How to Make a Model
of a Clipper Ship
This book descril>ee how the novlca
w expert can n«ake a scale model of
I^nald McKay’s most beautiful
the fnmou.s ''Sovereign of the
Seas, ' 1852.
The instructions for btiihling this
ship are so clearly preeentetl, from
start to finisli, that anyone enn
follow them and con.slrttot this
ntetely roniiintio veHsel, eitlier eim-
plified to the last <l«f;r««, conr>ist«ut
with obtftining tlie correct effect, or
with every detail the ship would
have. No special tools or knowledge
are required. Price, $2.50.
VOL. Ill
How to Make a Model
of the U. S. Frigate
Constitution
Here are given complete nstruotions
for making America's own "Old
Ironsides”— 1797.
The first part, eliminates all un-
esheutial details, making the work
c^y ami quick for the novice.
Ihe second part g ves details of all
the parts required for an’exhaustive-
ly exact, scale model. Early and
recoostnictioD government plane,
documents, models and coutempora-
ry books and drawings have been
consulted in order to make the l>ook
as correct and authoritative as
possible, BO that it can be confidently
recommended to the amateur or
expert. Price, $2.50.
Miniature Boat
Building
By Albert C. Leltcb. A concise and
complete treatise written in under-
standable language covering marine
model making in general, the history
of model making and the specific
design and construction ol the
models of eleven famous racing sail
and power boats. Il)ustrate<l with
scale drawings and 500 progressive
pictures.
Every detail thoroughly treated.
242 (6x0) Pages, 500 Illustrations.
Full 8lze Working Plans in Pocket.
Price, $3.00.
Electro-Deposition of
Metals
By Dangbein and Brannt. An
encyclopedia on plating and finishing
of metals. Written in plain lan-
guage with special reference to the
needs of the practical plater and
metal finisher.
It is the master treatise on electro-
plating, galvanizing, metal i^oloring,
lacquering and eiectrotyping and
covers every detail of the prasent
advanced state of the art in its every-
day applications. K0.3 Pages, 185
lUuatrations. Price, $7.50.
Metallurgy of Alumi-
num and Aluminum
Alloys
By Robert J. Anderson. A Modern
and Practical Treatise on the Metal-
lurgy of Aluminum and I Us Light
Alloys. Covering the Subject from
the Mining of the Ores to the Fabri-
cation of the Metal and Applicatlona
T'horeof. 923 Pages, 205 Illustra-
tions. Price, $7.50.
Mechanical Move-
ments, Powers and
Devices
By Gardner D. lli«iy)x. M, 3^. This
is a collocLion uf 1 ,890 engravings of
different meohauirul inotious nii<l
applianrSH, a<w'omiianioc) by aj,-
propiiule text, making it o book i,t
great value to the invouUor, tho
drafumiun, and to all rea<li«rs wirji
ine<'liaui< al tustes. .‘^event«K'nT.h Itc-
risoti I'.diiion, 1,890 engruvings.
Price, $4.00.
Mechanical Appli-
ances, Mechanical
Movements and
Novelties of
Construction
By Gardner D. Mlscox. M. E. Tbls
volume oootaitis illustratiuris and de-
Koriptions of many cumbinationH <jf
inofioiirt ar.tl of niH.-hanical devi.-es
and HiudianreM found iik dilToront
lines of muciiiuery, vurli dc’. i--e l.eitig
shown }>y a liiir* drawing wi(ii «. de-
Hcripih.n showing ils wmkiag purls
and tlie intthod of oporut.ion. It
itiay h© said Mint tlu^ wlx-lo li«M of
niooh.anics is covered by tli i^* voliuue
and evory i nventor , paten t a( torney.
machinist, oagmoor and all others en-
gaged iu the liieclMUiicul arts or in-
terested in tlie tlosigii of any form of
macUlm-ry Hboidd thir. valu-
able work. .Sixth Uevisod ami en-
larged edition. Over l.OOO special
engravings. Price, $4.00.
Practical Steam, Hot-
Water Heating and
Ventilation
By Alfred G. Kitig. This Is the
latest, most cotnpleto and uji-to-date
work on tins eubjcct, and lius been
written for (illoagagcd i n the i>rnrtii«
of Steam, V!ipt)r. Uot Water Ileatina
and Ventilation. Tlie u ithor hits
spent over tliirty-five years in the
healing trade ami hi.s exi>eiien<#
covers every angle of the buKiness.
llei.s n.UegistoKsI Heating Engineer,
the author of hovorul steam heuting
books and ha» written many tech-
nical articles covering every phaeo of
beating and vcatilation and is a
recogiiieed authorit.v on this suhiect.
This book will interest anyone who
Wonts to make a detailed study of
Bteain. Vapor. Hot Water Healing
and Ventilation. 651 pages,
illustrations, HI specially tiiKeful
tables. Fifth revised and enlarged
edition. Price, $4.00.
Standard Practical
Plumbing
By R. M. Htarbiick. 'The author
baa produced in the eighth revised
edition the best book on modern
plumbing yet written. It will ap-
peal to the beginner as a ly> >k of in-
stiuctiou, and to his more advanced
brother as a book of reforenre-
This book for years has been tlie
standard authority on plumbing
practice. In the new uualter that
hon just been added to tlie revised
seventh edition, perhaps nothing will
appeal more strong y to a large num-
ber of remlers than the chapter on
Examinations for Plunil>ere and Fit-
ters. A new and special chapter eo
Features of Government Plumbing,
fully illustrated . has also been added
to this new erlition. The hook has
444 pages invluding 3C4 i llustrations
— 1(X> of which are full page plate*
which were inivde expressly for this
book and show the most modem
American practice in plumbing con-
struction. Eighth reviberl and en-
larged edition. Price, ^.00.
Henley’s 20th Century
Book of Recipes,
Formulas, Processes
The Greatest Book of its kind
published. Contains 10,000 recipes
and formulas, anti everyone should
have this Irook at his command.
One formula alone will more than
pay you for the expense of the whole
book. You can iuorense your profits
by manufaoturiiiK your own items.
There is outhing publi-betl that will
take the place of lleTiley's Formula
Book. You may have KncyeloiHi-
dias, Household Recipes Trade
Manuals and all eort.<> of reference
works, but none of them can take the
place oi this I>ook. It is indispens-
able as a dictinimi y — and more use*
ful. Fully indexed. Price, $4.00.
Copies of these books sent prepaid on receipt of price.
NORLEY BOOK C0„ 98 Park Place, New York, N. Y.
288
WONDER STORIES QUARTERLY
If You a Job with a Future
GET INTO CHEMISTRY
Chemistry is one of the most ancient and honorable
callings known to man. During the Middle Ages its adepts
were the advisors of kings. Then it was called a black art
and its followers were believed to have supernatural
powers.
The chemist of today with his modernized knowledge
has secrets a thousandfold more potent at his command.
He is the brains behind hundreds of rich industries, which
could not exist without his skill. Yet the field of Applied
Chemistry has spread so widely that it is difficult to get
enough good men to fill the available posts.
A chemical expert is always sure of a good income, a
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He may also make himself a fortune, as hundreds of chem-
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Hall? He was an American chemist wlio at the age of
twenty-one discovered how to extract aluminum from
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for someone to experiment tind do it. There are innumer-
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Mr. Hall died a few years ago, leaving an estate of many
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Previous Experience Not Needed
ANvo.\'i': WHO can re.ad
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perience or preparation. Chemistry is
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tricity or radio. Just plain sense and
ordinary observation powers.
Laboratory Outfit Free
THE COMPLETE CHEMICAL
OUTFIT and AITARATU.S sup-
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is shipped to yon at the outset of the
course becomes your permanent prop-
erty. It is a sturdy lifted wooden cabinet
containing over 100 pieces of laboratory
apparatus and chemical supplies. With
these materials and equipment you will
have in your own home and always at
hand, a compact, complete working
chemist’s laboratory which you will use
constantly not only in your experiments
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We Can Teach You At Home
Our faculty knows just how to mold
you into a skillful laboratory worker.
THE HEAD OF OUR STAFF IS
DR. T. O’CONOR SLOANE, scientist,
engineer and author of wide repute. He
has had more than fifty years of teach-
ing e.xperience. Our course fits you for
an immediate position in a chemical
laboratory, and you do not have to give
up what you are doing now to learn it.
I (^hrmical Tnstitule of New Vork, Inc.
j lii'fnr }')ivision, WSQ-S-2
I ly r.ok Place, New York. N. Y.
I me at once, without any obli-
I gation nn niy piirt, your Tree Book “Oppor-
j tiiniltes fur Clipnn.sls,’' and full paiticular.«;
I about the Experimental Equipment given to
I every student.
j NAME -
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I CITY STATE
This valuable experimental laboratory outfit is
given without extra cost to every one of our
students as his property.
SIZE OF CABINET:
HEIGHT; 22 Vi In. LENGTH: 17V2 In.
WEIGHT; 25 lbs.
What These Students Have
Done, You Can Do!
“Since / hax>c been studying
with your school I have been ap-
pointed chemist for the Sernnton
Coal Co., testing all the coal and
ash by proximate analysis .” —
Morlais Coiizens.
“I also have some news for you.
I have been made assistant chem-
ist for the concern I am working
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E. H. Lasater.
"If it zveren’t for your course I
zvniddn't have the job I’ve got
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"Since beginning your course
of study I haze received an in-
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through a better nitdcrstandina.”
— M. G. Cole.
During evenings and week-ends you
can work at home on the fascinating
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over difficulties and to answer all your
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teaching you receive is practical. You
can actually use this knowledge to
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More Money in Chemistry Than in
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CHEMISTS ARE WELL-PAID
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in every well-known industry — and behind
each of these discoveries stands a well-
trained chemist who knew how to take ad-
vantage of opportunity !
No Exaggerated Claims
THE INSTITUTE DO i:S NOT
CLAIM that every chemist makes millions,
nor do we guarantee that you will imme-
diately get a job paying $10,000 a year. But
many have done it, and there is no reason
why you cannot do it too. Often enough
you read and hear about men who have
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Get Started Today!
IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO KNOW
MORE ABOUT CHEMISTRY, and if
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famous one some day, yon will isr wait
until tomorrow to lind out how to go
about it.
MAIL the coupon at your left today.
There is no charge and no further obliga-
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